Handmaid
by Pandora of Ithilien
Summary: Then Rachel said, 'Here is my maid Bilhah, go into her... and even I may have children through her." Gen. 30:3. In a world where a sonless king has options above and beyond annulment, two women's fates will be drastically changed...
1. Prologue: One Moment

Disclaimer: If it were mine, the_ series_ would be historical AU, not the fanfiction. Though in some ways the show _is_ historical AU… Anyway, you get the point.

Special thanks to ReganX for helping me get this off the ground, and also to cap red and DineinDina for being part of the idea-bouncing. Also, in this story, I'm rearranging things a little. Mary Boleyn preceded Bessie Blount as mistress; therefore, Anne was in England and one of Katherine's ladies when Henry Fitzroy was born.

_**Prologue – One Moment:**_ One moment can change your life. One moment can change your world. It can be just a little thing: a sentence spoken aloud, a sudden change in the weather, even a brief meeting of eyes. Such a small thing, but it can make everything different.

* * *

Anne Boleyn knew she and her sister would be returning to England after the summit between Kings Henry and Francis, something she could not be excited about. She had lived abroad for much of her life, first as a child in the court of Marguerite of Navarre, and then as a maid in waiting to Her Majesty Queen Claude of France. She was far more French than she was English, and it left her feeling oddly homesick at the thought of leaving France behind forever.

It wouldn't be so bad for Mary, not now. Anne shook her head, torn as always about her sister. Mary had been King Francis' mistress – he'd even shared her with some of his favored courtiers, as if she were a possession! – and now… now she had slept with the King of England as well. But it wasn't just Mary Anne was thinking of, though she knew that, undoubtedly, her sister would soon be discarded in favor of someone else.

She was also thinking of Queen Katherine, as she had often thought of Queen Claude when Francis paraded his mistresses. At least King Henry appeared to be more discreet, but all stories of the Spanish queen said she was intelligent, so she had to know he was unfaithful. Anne couldn't imagine having to watch as her husband took mistresses before her eyes. Even if she did not love him, she didn't think she could bear to see such blatant disregard.

Mary burst into the tent they shared, her eyes bright. "Oh, Anne, King Henry is amazing! He…"

Anne let her sister chatter away about how wonderful being with the king had been, how he was surely the man she loved. She had come to think that her sister was in love with love. Personally, Anne wasn't sure she saw the appeal. What did love do but bring a broken heart?

* * *

Just over two years later, Anne was sure she was right. She and Mary had become ladies in waiting to Queen Katherine, though Mary had left for her new husband's house soon after. The King had tired of her and she'd been married off. The girls' father had made a few comments about Anne taking her sister's place, but the King's eye landed on Bessie Blount before he could order her to do anything. For that, Anne was grateful. She'd only been in the Queen's service for a little over six months at the time, but she already didn't want to betray the Queen who'd been nothing but polite to her and Mary, despite knowing Mary's role at court.

Tonight, the Queen had all of Anne's admiration. Bessie had fallen pregnant, and had just a day ago given birth to a son. He had been christened Henry, in the King's honor, and the court was celebrating almost as though a legitimate prince had been born. Anne thought, that if she were the one whose husband was celebrating the birth of his child by another woman so extravagantly, that she would have locked herself in her bedchamber to rage or to weep. But the Queen did not do either of these things. Instead, she entered the banquet hall with her head held high and toasted the new baby, her eyes never leaving the King's. Then she turned and left, with her two attendants following.

* * *

When they reached the Queen's rooms, Anne and the other girl, Margaret Darcy, helped the Queen change into nightclothes. Then she dismissed them both. Maggie left immediately – she wanted to go to the party – but Anne hesitated. "Your Majesty?" she said quietly.

Katherine, who had been about to pray, stopped and turned, looking at the slender young woman in the doorway, looking so uncertain. She didn't want her ladies afraid of her. "Yes, Mistress Anne?"

"I… You didn't have to do that, for Bessie's son," Anne said, throwing caution to the wind. "No one could have possibly expected you to…"

"But I did, Mistress Anne," Katherine said with a sad smile. "I had to because I required it of myself. But it is kind of you to say that." Their eyes met, for just one moment, and that one moment was too much.

Anne nodded, curtseyed, and fled, suddenly unable to be in the same room with the stoic Queen any longer. Two corridors away she stopped and leaned against the stone wall, her heart racing. Something had happened, just then, when she had met the Queen's eyes properly for the first time. She had been loyal to Katherine from the very beginning, as was proper, but everyone in her family had commented on how stridently loyal she had become, an attitude that was, as her father pointed out, inconvenient in a young woman who may yet be primed to take the King's eye.

She had thought it more of what had driven her loyalty to Queen Claude; a natural sympathy for the wronged wife of an errant husband. But even before now, that had not made sense. King Henry was normally discreet, enough so that his wife knew that he took mistresses, but she never had it displayed in front of her. Anne suspected that this was part of why Mary had lost the King's interest so quickly; she loved her sister, but Mary wasn't the most practical-minded of girls, and she hadn't exactly been discreet about her relationship with the King.

But now she knew she'd been wrong, very wrong. This wasn't sympathy, not even close. What it was, Anne didn't dare even name to herself. But she knew everything was different now. Just as she knew her father was right about her loyalty being inconvenient should he want her to become the King's mistress. Because she would not betray the Queen in any way, not even if it cost her everything. She knew that now. And in her heart of hearts she knew why; she just could not acknowledge it. But it was the truth, and it would not change. All of this, from just one moment.

A/N: OK, this was a little odd, but I promise after this chapter the writing style is more of a proper story. I had to use the prologue to set the stage and this was the best way I could think of.


	2. Strategic Considerations

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 1 – Strategic Considerations:**_ Katherine of Aragon, Queen of England, was many things, but she was not a fool. She knew what was in Henry's mind. It could only be one of two things. Either he was going to try to get his infant bastard legitimized, or he was going to look for a way to get legitimate sons from a woman besides Katherine. There were two ways he could do that, of course. He could try to get an annulment, or he could exercise the handmaid privilege.

The justification for the handmaid privilege came from two instances in Genesis, when barren wives Sarai and and Rachel gave their maids to their respective husbands, Abraham and Jacob, in order to have children. It was a policy that had been declared as a way to avoid the political disasters that could come with annulments. In the handmaid system, either the King or the Queen selected a young woman of noble birth, usually one of the Queen's ladies, to take on the handmaid's role. She then had five years to produce at least one son. If she had a female child, she had an extra two years, as the daughter would at least prove her fertility.

If the handmaid bore a son, she would also gain a permanent position, taking the title of Princess Consort. If she did not do so in the time alloted, she was dowered and married off to a minor nobleman. For young women of noble but impoverished families, it was a good option – on the rare occasions when it proved necessary.

For a Queen, however… It was, admittedly preferable to being set aside. But there was one thing that made it, in some ways, an even more dangerous possibility. Because if the Queen predeceased the handmaid, the king was honor-bound to marry the latter. And that could be a problem if the chosen handmaid – or her family – had ambitions.

Katherine had never thought she would be considering this option. She had been so sure that she could bear the sons England needed, but that had not happened. Deep down, she didn't even think the country _needed_ a prince – her Mary was more than capable of ruling England, just as her grandmother Isabella had ruled Castile. But Katherine knew that Henry would never truly be resigned to having Mary as his heir.

_"To_ _defeat the enemy, Catalina, you must make him think he is winning."_ Her mother's words rang in Katherine's head as she considered her situation. She did not consider Henry to be her enemy, but the basic principle was the same. He would never allow her to select a handmaid for him, but if he didn't know she was behind his choice…

The idea had possibilities. Katherine knew how Henry's mind worked; she had known him since he was a boy of ten, when she first came to England as the wife of his elder brother. She could use that, she knew; it would not be the first time. Except that, this time around, she would not be doing it herself. Instead, she would use all she knew of Henry, and all she'd learned of his mistresses, to instruct one woman and enable her to catch Henry's eye. The irony was not lost on Katherine; this was essentially what the courtiers did when they wanted Henry to take a mistress of one of their kinswomen. But for her, the stakes were even higher than what the nobles faced. This could mean the legitimacy of her daughter, or the difference between life and death for Katherine and Mary both.

It was not something she wanted to do, but what choice did she have? The only way she could secure herself, and more importantly, Mary, was if she was the guiding hand behind what was going to happen. Because it was going to happen; Katherine knew that much. So she had to make sure it happened on her terms, not Henry's, and not the handmaid's. But just who was the handmaid going to be? The choice was vital, and Katherine knew it was not a decision to be made quickly. And yet, one face leapt into her mind immediately.

_"You didn't have to do that…"_ Blue eyes wide with sympathy flashed in Katherine's mind, and she frowned, considering. Perhaps. The family could be a problem, but as for the girl herself… This required more thought, and her mind should not have been so quick to come up with an answer. She found that odd, but nothing to be alarmed about.

* * *

Anne and the other ladies were just leaving the Queen's rooms when Katherine spoke. "Mistress Anne, stay a moment. I wish to speak with you."

Anne froze, wild thoughts running through her mind. She banished them firmly, reminding herself that she'd vowed to never think that way, and that it could never happen anyway. She turned to face Katherine and dropped into a curtsey.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Sit with me, Anne. I don't want you on your knees for this discussion."

Anne did as ordered, wondering what this could possibly be about. Surely the Queen couldn't have guessed… but what if she had? Oh God…

"Do you know of the handmaid position?" Katherine's question cut into Anne's racing thoughts, and she frowned. Yes, she knew of the role, but why was the Queen asking her about it?

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Tell me what you know."

"In the event that a king is sonless, either he or the queen selects a handmaid, a woman who bears children for the royal couple, children who are considered legitimate. She is very like a wife, except that she is easily discarded if she bears no sons. If she does, however, she is given the title of Princess Consort and her position is ensured. If she outlives the queen, the king must marry her."

"Exactly." Katherine paused for a moment, then continued. "I am nearly past the age of childbearing, and my history is against me even if I do conceive. My husband's bastard by Bessie Blount has left him even more desperate for a legitimate son. If he does not get one, he may seek to annul our marriage. I cannot allow that to happen."

"If I can help you in any way, Your Majesty – "

"You can." Katherine stood up – with Anne following suit – and walked to the window, staring out of it. Then she turned around and faced Anne again, her piercing blue-gray gaze holding the younger woman immobile. "You're young, Mistress Anne, and likely fertile. And I believe I can trust you – that's important. I would like you to take the handmaid postion."

Anne stared at her, speechless with shock. She shouldn't be so surprised; Katherine's words had implied that this would be her conclusion. But Anne couldn't imagine actually doing it. Being the potential mother of the heir to the throne… For a moment, the natural Boleyn ambition asserted itself, but her mind and heart almost immediately rebelled. How could she do that? How could she become the King's lover? How could she betray a woman that she… How could she do that, even with Katherine's blessing?

She tried to think of some loophole, some way out of it, and came up with something almost immediately. "But, Your Majesty, will the King accept a woman of your choice as a handmaid?"

Katherine smiled, and it was a smile unlike any Anne had ever seen on her Queen's face before. It was mischievous, almost sly. "That is the point. He will believe you to be his choice."

"I don't understand." But she was afraid that she did; it was just what she'd always feared that her father would order. _I can't do this…_

"I am going to teach you how to ensnare my husband. You see, once I was the prize he needed to win, the object of his boyhood fantasy. I know what it is that catches his interest, and I can explain to you how to do it."

Anne didn't think she could speak. Was there no way to avoid this? It seemed that there wasn't. But if the Queen was the driving force behind it, the situation would be different. She would not be a mistress, and she would not be betraying a loyal wife. But she couldn't, and it wasn't just because she would be taking Katherine's husband. "My sister…" she whispered. Mary was known as the Great Prostitute, after seducing and bedding two royal lovers.

"You would not be your sister, a woman without honor or shame," Katherine said bluntly. "The handmaid's position is far better, and even if you should fail, you will not be badly off."

That much was true, and yet… "Your Majesty, may I have permission to think about it? The idea is such a huge one that I need time to settle my mind to it. I swear that no one will hear of this conversation from me, not unless you order it."

Katherine inclined her head gracefully. "Very well. You may go."

Anne curtsied and left. Her mind was whirling as she returned to her room, and she almost walked into her father.

"Anne! Watch where you are going!"

"I'm sorry, Papa. Is something wrong?"

"Your sister has given birth to a baby boy. She and Carey are calling him Henry, and you and your brother are to stand as godparents. Therefore, you will be leaving for Carey's manor in Norfolk at first light tomorrow."

"But I have to ask the Queen's permission…"

"I have already secured the King's permission for the both of you. Now go to bed, Anne, you will have to be awake quite early tomorrow." He strode off, and Anne closed her eyes. Perhaps this was a good thing. Distance would surely do her good. It would give her time to think about things, away from the court, the King, and the Queen who never seemed far from her thoughts.

A/N: I didn't like how two of Mary Boleyn's kids were written out of history, and it was the perfect excuse to get Anne out of the court for a chapter. She needs the time, don't you think?


	3. Resolve

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

_**Chapter 2 – Resolve:**_ Anne spent most of the next two days riding in the carriage to Will Carey's estate. George joined her only occasionally, preferring instead to ride ahead on his horse. That suited Anne just fine. Her brother had always been good at reading her, and she didn't need George seeing how unsettled she was at the moment.

The distance was not doing her good. As hard as Anne tried, she could not clear her mind. All she could think about was her conversation with the Queen. She still didn't know what she was going to do. She supposed she could simply exile herself to the country. There was a lot about court that she wouldn't miss, but the thought of just leaving that way, of never seeing the Queen again and breaking the promise she'd made, was intolerable. But her only other choice, it seemed, was to seduce the King. With his wife's help.

She could do this if Katherine asked it of her, couldn't she? It was just her own fears holding her back, when what she feared didn't even make sense. As the Queen had said, she would not be a mistress, she would be a handmaid, and that was a better thing by far. No matter what happened, handmaids were provided for, and they did not carry the same stain of dishonor that former royal mistresses had.

But she didn't even like the King. He was everything she had never wanted in a man: unfaithful, arrogant, spoiled, and carelessly cruel when it struck his fancy. How could she pretend to love him? Especially now, when she was beginning to suspect what love really was? And she could never admit that, not to anyone. Because if she did, she would also have to admit that she had tumbled headlong into sin, without even meaning to. If one was to sin this grievously, shouldn't it be intentional? She didn't know. But then again, at that moment, Anne felt as though she didn't know much of anything.

She leaned her head back against the seat, sighing. She honestly didn't know where to go from here. It seemed that every choice was a bad one, but which was the least of evils? If she could figure that out, maybe she would know what to do.

* * *

For a woman who had been known across Europe as the "Great Prostitute", Mary was certainly a doting mother. She showed off her little son excitedly, and, as preoccupied as Anne was, she couldn't help but smile.

"I'm sure he knows me already, he stops crying when I hold him," Mary said brightly. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Well, I wouldn't want him to start crying," Anne teased.

"I'm sure he won't, Anne, go on!" Carefully, Anne took the baby from her sister's arms. He opened his pale blue eyes, still a little unfocused, and Anne's breath caught in her throat. He was so tiny, so delicate, peering up at her like that. He didn't cry, though, and after a bit of wriggling, settled down nicely.

"He could be yours, Anne; he's relaxed enough with you. Every time I try to hold him, he starts screaming. Doesn't he, Marianne?" George, leaning against the doorway, had a teasing smirk on his face. Anne, as she had done as a girl, stuck her tongue out at him, but his words went straight to her heart. Wasn't the idea of a child the basis of everything that was troubling her? Bessie's bastard, the Queen's inability to bear a son, her own fertility…

She kept the smile on her face when she handed baby Henry back to Mary, hiding her thoughts. "He's beautiful, Mary," she said quietly.

"Anne, are you all right?" her sister asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just have a headache, so I'm going to lie down for a little while, I think." She left her sister and brother, hurrying to the room given to her for her stay.

"Miss Anne, is something wrong?"

Anne gave her brother-in-law a falsely bright smile. "No, William, I simply need to rest for a while. Just a headache."

"Oh, I see. But what do you think of your nephew?"

"He's a sweet baby," Anne said. "I really am sorry, William, but I need to lie down, so if you'll excuse me…?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry."

In her room, Anne stared up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. She had hoped that Mary and her newborn nephew would be distraction enough, but that had not been the case. No matter what, her mind went straight back to her dilemma. What was she going to do?

The door opened and she sat up as George walked in and dropped into the room's only chair. "So, Annamaria, what's going on?"

"Nothing, George. I just have a headache."

"And maybe Mary, as distracted as she is right now, can believe that, but I can't." He leaned forward, catching her gaze with his own. "You know you can tell me anything. What is it?"

And although she had sworn not to speak of it, she couldn't help it. The story came pouring out. When she was finished, George had a look of concentration on his face.

"The Queen's right, you know," he said finally. "It's a real chance for you, Anne."

"And for the family?" she shot back. "I know what you're thinking, George, you've become more like Papa than ever."

"Anything that's good for one of us is good for all of us," George pointed out mildly. "And Anne, it's not like you'd be hurting her; the Queen's the one asking you to do this."

"But I can't pretend to love the King, not when I don't even like him, not when I think I might be in love with – " She stopped abruptly when she realized what she was saying, but it was too late. George's eyes narrowed.

"Who, Anne? Not Wyatt? He's married and you know it."

She shook her head. "No, no, not Wyatt… It's so much more complicated than that."

"Anne, who?"

She just shook her head, and kept shaking it, until finally she stopped and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, George, I'm in such trouble. If anyone found out…"

"Anne!" George was honestly frightened now – he'd never seen his sister like this. "Anne!" He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her, trying to get her attention. Her eyes were wide and her face pale as chalk when she looked up at him. "It can't be that bad," he said soothingly. "Just tell me."

"I… I think I'm… I might be in love with the Queen."

There was total silence in the room after Anne's confession. She had an utterly lost expression on her face, while George wrestled with mingled shock and sympathy. His first instinct was to tell his sister he understood – oh, God, he understood – but he held his tongue in that regard. Anne had done nothing; her inner thoughts would not get her in trouble. His actions, on the other hand, could be fatal, and not just for him. However, there was something he could say. "You know, in the Bible, it never explicitly says there's anything wrong with a woman loving another woman. It's only men who are expressly forbidden from it." And that was a fact that was still bitter to him, though he hardly cared anymore what the Bible said.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? My God, if she ever knew, she'd be horrified."

"Well, you've kept it hidden so far, haven't you?"

"I just realized it! I had nothing to hide before; I don't know if I can now!"

"You're going to have to, Anne, and I know you can pull it off if anyone can. But if you do love her, then you really should do what she's asking."

"_What?_ Why?"

"She said it herself; she trusts you, which is why she wants you to do it. Anne, think for a moment. What if the King picks someone else, someone with an eye for more than just the handmaid's position? Remember, if the Queen dies, the King is honor-bound to wed his handmaid. Do you really want to see that happen?"

"You're saying that someone might take the position, and then have Katherine murdered?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility. And I'm betting she knows it too, or she wouldn't be trying to make sure someone who won't be an enemy to her is chosen."

Anne looked away. "You just want to see the family advance," she accused yet again.

"Yes, I do, but Anne, it really comes down to the fact that the only way Katherine is safe is if you do what she asks. If you think about it, you'll realize that." Even George didn't know if he meant what he said or if he was doing what his father would, using the best argument to get Anne to do what needed to be done.

"Please leave, George, I need to think about this," Anne said finally. He nodded and left her alone. She got up and went to the window, echoing Katherine's movements from their last meeting almost unconsciously. The setting sun was bright in her eyes, but that didn't bother her.

George was right. Another woman might not be content with the handmaid position – and later, the title of Princess Consort, assuming she bore a son. Anne didn't want anything to do with the King at all, but if the alternative was to have a woman who might wish Katherine harm taking on the role… That was unacceptable. And there was only one way to prevent it.

* * *

"Mistress Anne, I trust your time in the country was enjoyable?" Katherine asked a week later, when Anne returned to the Queen's rooms.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sorry I did not tell you; my father said he spoke to the King and that it was not necessary to do so."

Katherine inclined her head. "Yes, and His Majesty did inform me the day you left that you and your brother were to be godparents to your new nephew. Your sister is becoming a respectable noblewoman, is she not?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Mistress Jane, Mistress Madge, you may leave," Katherine said, dismissing her other two ladies. Then she turned her searching gaze on Anne. "You have had time away to consider things, Anne."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Anne took a deep breath, aware that there was no going back from this. But there was also no other choice, at least not one that she was willing to make. "I will do as you ask. I will become the King's handmaid."

A/N: Let the games begin.


	4. Storming the Castle

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 3 – Storming the Castle:**_ After that exchange, Anne's interactions with the Queen changed immediately. In public, things were just as they were, before but after the ladies had been dismissed, Anne would return to the Queen's rooms instead of going to her own. The other girl in her room believed she was carrying on with some young lord, and Anne let her believe it. It was a much safer thought than the truth, after all.

No one could know that Anne was learning how to capture the King from his own wife. Even George didn't know what was going on. She already felt bad enough for telling him about what the Queen had asked after vowing to keep it to herself, but she knew that it hadn't been planned; she had simply fallen apart. She would not do so again.

* * *

"Mary was completely in awe of him," Anne admitted. "I don't think it ever occurred to her why he tired of her so quickly."

"In your sister's case, I think it was her ties to Francis that both cultivated his interest and helped end it, but she did not help matters by being so easily caught," Katherine said frankly. "Henry's favorite point of a love affair is the courtship, the flirtation."

"But most families push their daughters into his bed almost as soon as he takes an interest. Why do none of them wait?"

"I have never truly considered it. I imagine that they either have not noticed that he enjoys the chase more than anything, or they are so eager for his favor that they rush things. But what the courtiers do is of no account. This is a different matter, however similar it may seem."

"They he blows hot, then cold. He pushed Bessie back to her husband, even though she gave him a son. She loved him – that much was clear to us all – but he didn't care enough for her to think of it at all. How am I supposed to keep his interest if I _don't_ let him bed me?" Anne wanted to know, confused. The king's enjoying the chase was all very well, but he was an impatient man, and she wouldn't be able to hold him off with smiles for long. She was certain of that much.

"You're not listening to me, Anne," Katherine informed her, a hint of irritation in her voice. "That is exactly how you will hold his attention. Giving in too easily will merely curtail his interest."

"But if I don't give him what he wants, surely he will grow impatient and find another woman who will?"

Katherine had to admit, that was a good question. And there were always women willing to throw themselves at Henry, whether on their family's direction or on their own initiative. In the end, whether or not Henry's interest stayed on Anne would be up to the woman in question herself. "You have to constantly keep yourself in his thoughts," she said finally. "You must always move forward a little and then step back, but not so far that you fade from sight."

"At the French court, I shared my bedchamber with a girl named Louise once Mary caught King Francis' eye. She made a pastime of toying with the young men. She told me that she always ensured they never went too far with her, that they could kiss her or dance with her, but anything more and she would firmly step back, refusing to allow them further liberties," Anne had actually rather liked Louise, and she thought that perhaps some of her former companion's methods could be applied here, though the thought of doing this with the King made her uncomfortable.

"How circumspect for a Frenchwoman," Katherine observed dryly, her natural distaste for the French showing through. Anne bridled slightly, her loyalty to the place where she had spent her girlhood flaring up. But she knew that Katherine's hatred of the French was as bred into her as Anne's own fondness for them was, and she didn't want to cause a scene, so she didn't say anything. Katherine continued, "You're going to have to use your judgment, Anne. I imagine you learned flirtation at the French court, and you certainly seem to have cut a swath through England's young lords in your time here. I'm helping you to understand Henry, but you already know, to some extent, how to catch and hold a man's attention."

"Is that what made you pick me, when I know there are a few other ladies you could trust, Your Majesty?" Anne said, wishing almost immediately that she hadn't.

Katherine's eyes narrowed. "I picked you for the exact reason I gave you before, Mistress Anne." That wasn't entirely true, and Katherine knew it. There was something about this girl. She suspected it would fascinate Henry; what she didn't like was that she was intrigued herself. Mary Boleyn had been a cheerful if somewhat empty-headed flirt, Thomas Boleyn was a man of pure ambition, and the son, George, was some sort of mix between his sister and his father. Anne stood out from the rest, but it was hard to tell precisely why.

"I didn't mean – " Anne began quickly, but Katherine shook her head.

"Never mind that. The important thing is that you are the best choice, and I believe you can succeed." Katherine certainly hoped she would, because otherwise there was no way to say what might happen.

* * *

There was to be a masque. Charles, King of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor, was sending his envoys to England to work out a treaty with King Henry. Anne managed not to laugh aloud when Katherine told the ladies who were to dance what part each of them was playing. She was to be Lady Perseverance, one of the Graces. Although she knew it was unwise, she caught her Queen's eye for a moment after the roles were announced, allowing her amusement at the irony to show. Katherine, for her part, inclined her head almost imperceptibly, but Anne was certain she saw a hint of a smirk on the other woman's face.

On the day of the masque, Anne donned her white gown and gold mask with the other ladies before going with them to the faux castle that was to be their 'prison'. She took her place beside Lady Beauty, played by Princess Margaret, the King's sister, and waited for the show to begin. Her eyes traveled around the room, landing on the Imperial ambassadors, flanked by Cardinal Wolsey and Thomas More. She knew that her family did not like Wolsey; personally she had no real opinion of him, as their paths had never crossed. Though she suspected that if she did become the handmaid, her family would push her to cast the Cardinal down. But then again, perhaps she wouldn't have to do as they ordered anymore if the plan she and the Queen were working on came to fruition.

The masque began with the older man – Master Cornish – playing Arrant Desire walking in with the men who played the rescuers. He yelled for the women in black playing the Disgraces to release their captives. They refused, and witty barbs were exchanged before Cornish declared an attack. The men ran for the castle and the women in black scattered. One of them actually climbed up to where Anne stood and grabbed her hand. "Lady Perseverance, you are now my captive," he said, and she recognized his voice at once. The King. She looked into his eyes, their gazes locking for a full minute.

"_Those eyes of yours are like dark hooks for the soul."_ Before, when she'd first come to court, her father had pointed out that she may be called upon to become the King's mistress if Mary lost his favor. He'd suggested that she'd learned things in France, and he had said those words. At the time she'd been a little unsettled that her father was speaking to her that way, but now she hoped he was right. Because if he was, this was the first step towards what Katherine wanted from her, from the goal Anne had adopted as her own.

The King froze, staring at her for one long moment before letting her hand go and swinging around to lead his sister down from the 'castle'. Anne walked down with the help of another man, revealed at the unmasking as the King's great friend, Charles Brandon. The rumor was that he was to be made a duke, for no better reason than his friendship with the King.

Brandon was her partner for the better part of the dance, though they were next to the King and Princess Margaret. Anne could hear little snippets of the royal siblings' conversation, and from what she gathered, it seemed to be an argument over Margaret's upcoming marriage. Her brother was hardly listening, though. He was looking at Anne. She could feel his eyes on her, and she darted a quick look his way before turning her attention back to her partner.

Then the steps of the dance called for them to switch partners, and the King asked breathlessly, "Who are you?"

"Anne. Anne Boleyn." She slanted him a sidelong look before giving all her attention to the dance. When the time came for her to return to her original partner, she gave him one more quick look. She could feel his eyes on her for the rest of the dance.

* * *

Try as he might, Henry could not stop thinking about the dark haired beauty he'd met at the masque. Anne Boleyn. He remembered a previous mistress, Mary Boleyn, now married to Sir William Carey with an infant son. Mary had been a skilled lover. He wondered if her sister was as skillful. She was certainly as beautiful, although her beauty was not of the conventional kind.

He did have a taste for novelty, and Mistress Anne Boleyn was certainly an example of that. She would be his next mistress, he decided. But first, it might be best to ensure no grumblings from the family.

Which was why he'd called Sir Thomas Boleyn to him while he fired his musket? "I never thanked you properly for all of the exemplary ambassadorial work you've been doing for me, Sir Thomas."

"It was not required, Your Majesty."

"But I still wish to show my gratitude. You will be made a Knight of the Garter, and comptroller of my household."

"I believe Your Majesty has a greater opinion of my talents than I have."

"I shall be the judge of that. We shall speak further later." Henry turned and walked over to his spent target before saying, "Oh, I almost forgot. Your daughter, the one who performed in out masquerade."

"Anne," Boleyn said.

"Yes."

"She is a lady in waiting to Her Majesty."

"Hmm." Boleyn bowed and took his leave. Henry smiled. He did not think there would be any trouble from Anne Boleyn's father.

* * *

Thomas Boleyn prided himself on being a man who always knew what was going on, with his children and at court. He had, after all, been the one to alert the King – via that snake Wolsey – of Buckingham's planned assassination, and he had also known just how to ensure his elder daughter became the King's mistress.

But he did not know how the King had noticed Anne. He had seen them dancing together, but Anne had not flirted openly, as Mary would have done, and the King had not asked for her to be sent to him in the night. Was Anne playing some game of her own, without consulting him? That was unacceptable and he intended to let her know that. However, what was done was done, and he would be a fool not to capitalize on the benefits of whatever it was Anne was doing. He would be even more of a fool not to take over the reins of the enterprise himself, ensuring that Anne got everything she could for her family… and perhaps, if she did very well, she could even topple Wolsey.

This new situation had possibilities. He would have to talk to his brother in law, the Duke of Norfolk. Not for advice, no, he didn't need that, but it was always good to have an ally, and the other man was quite an ally to have. Now that Anne had come to her senses and let go of that childish devotion to the Queen, they could do something.

* * *

"I'm not sure it was enough," Anne admitted. "He was watching me, but he could have forgotten me immediately afterward."

"That does not matter. You have made a beginning," Katherine assured her. "That is enough to begin with. You did well, Anne."

"Thank you." She forgot to add on "Your Majesty", but neither of them noticed as they discussed plans for possible next moves. Anne watched how the firelight flickered on Katherine's face and was glad that George had been right – she was a good actress. If she were not, God only knew what she might not be able to stop herself from doing right now.

But she could not afford to lose herself in daydreams, not now. When the war was won, and she was the King's handmaid, then she could afford to dream, but not now.

A/N: For someone who likes to know what's going on, Papa Boleyn is rather clueless, isn't he?


	5. Potential Miscalculation

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 4 – Potential Miscalculation:**_ Anne stood in her father's apartments, watching him pace the room. Suddenly he stopped, giving her a sharp, cool look. "What are you doing, Anne?"

"What do you mean, Father?" She kept her voice steady, even though she was very nervous.

"The King is making me a Knight of the Garter, and comptroller of his household. He said it was a reward for my work overseas, but then he mentioned you," her father said calmly. "Why that should be I cannot understand, as I did not tell you to set yourself at him."

"I did not set myself at him," Anne said, her voice as cool as her father's. "I danced with him when the steps required it. If he noticed me, it was beyond my control."

"Well, whether it was your intention or not, he has noticed you, and you will go to his bed soon. I want you to remember your duty to the family, and act accordingly."

"And what if I do not go to the King's bed?"

Boleyn stared at his daughter, stunned. "Not go? Anne, what nonsense is this?"

"He's changeable. Women fall at his feet and are discarded in months." She drew herself up, remembering that she had to play her part to the hilt. "If you want me to truly have an influence on him, then you have to let me move as I see fit, Father. I learned how to read a man in France, I know I can make sure he'll not only have me, but keep me. Trust me."

"You could infuriate him, and ruin us all."

"Or I could bring us honor beyond your dreams. It's a risk, I admit that, but isn't it worth it?" She spun her words, hoping to fool her father. Flirting, even with the King, was a mind game Anne knew. This was something else entirely, and she couldn't believe that neither she nor Katherine had thought about it.

Of course, the King's first thought would be to make Anne his next mistress, and if he planned that, he would follow his usual procedure of heading off parental complaints with new favors. How could they have missed something so simple, so obvious? And how much trouble would this cause? She could only pray he fell for it.

Boleyn studied his younger daughter. He'd never dreamed that his youngest child harbored such initiative, such ambition. He was impressed in spite of himself, and he wondered what she might accomplish if given her head. He would observe the situation closely, but for the moment…

"Very well, Anne. We will try things your way. Woe betide you if you're wrong."

Anne held back a sigh of relief. One crisis averted at least. But she needed to let Katherine know. What else had they missed?

* * *

After she read Anne's note, Katherine was furious with herself. She'd forgotten what Henry's first step was after noticing a woman. How could she have done that? It had often been her first warning that her husband was straying again; suddenly a family would be honored, and then the King would take their wife, daughter, or sister to bed. And if she had forgotten, Anne should not have; although, come to think of it, Boleyn hadn't gotten much from Henry's affair with his elder daughter, and that could have been read as a sign of favor due to the French alliance.

So they had made a mistake. Both of them, because this was a partnership. Had Katherine wanted to have a girl who would simply follow orders, she would not have chosen Anne Boleyn. It was not an error that could not be corrected – in fact, Anne's little act might well have convinced her father, and if so, that was that.

But there were other things that they could not plan for. Katherine had no way of knowing if any other women were trying to catch Henry's eye; neither could Anne. While she trusted that the younger woman was likely to outshine most if not all of her possible competition – she had not been exaggerating when she'd mentioned that Anne had caught the interest of many of the court's young men – the possible complications of a third party could not be ignored. Then there was Henry himself. She planned on suggesting the handmaid option to him herself, but she was painfully aware that all of this could backfire. If Henry decided he wanted Anne to be his wife or nothing else, then this would all be for nothing, unless Anne could change his mind.

But Katherine had known the risks when she set out to do this. She had known it could all turn against her, and she had decided that it was worth it. If she did nothing, she would certainly lose everything. At least this way, she knew that she had done everything in her power to prevent it. In the end, that mattered, even if the outcome was the same either way.

* * *

Anne stared down at the jewel he'd sent her. Katherine had said Henry would likely send her gifts. She'd already decided not to accept them – what better way to show she was not a girl who could simply be bought? It was a pretty token, but she knew better than to keep it.

So she had to return it. And to bring the point home, she asked Lady Anne Clifford to do it. Lady Clifford was extremely loyal to Katherine, and when she first heard Anne's request, she looked angry, but then it must have occurred to her that if Anne wa sasking her to send it back, clearly she had no interest in being the King's latest mistress. Which was true, as far as it went.

So Lady Clifford agreed to take the gift back to the King, along with a note from Anne, thanking him but saying that she could not accept such a gift, as she was unworthy. Anne herself was more than a little nervous about the whole thing. This could backfire so badly. What if she angered the King and therefore ended his interest in her? Granted, that was what the note was for, to guard against that, but it was still a risk.

Katherine had said she had to keep herself back, and accepting his gifts did not seem to fit with that idea. It was the only thing she could think to do, and she couldn't go running to Katherine to check. Some of this had to be her, because she was the one actually seducing the King. If she couldn't trust her own judgment in this, she would never be able to pull it off.

* * *

"I almost died, Wolsey!" Henry yelled, as though his Chancellor was a fool who could not understand the severity of what had almost happened. "And if I had… I have no heir. Only a daughter, and a bastard son."

"Your Majesty…" Wolsey began, before realizing there was nothing to say. What the King said was, after all, true. Henry turned away, not wanting whatever platitudes the Chancellor would come up with.

He needed a son. He needed a legitimate son. But how? Katherine was barren, and he knew there was no way he could legitimize Bessie's Henry. There had to be a way… But even if there was, who would the mother of his sons be? Almost without conscious thought, he recalled haunting blue eyes that had sent a thrill through him, and a jewel returned with protestations of unworthiness. _Perhaps…_ But first, he had to figure out what he was going to do.

"I need an heir – a legitimate male heir," he specified, not wanting Wolsey to misunderstand with something so very important. "I won't be able to get one from the Queen. I want you to figure out some way that I can." He saw sudden uncertainty in the Cardinal's face, and continued, "If anyone can do it, I am certain you can, Your Excellency. I would hate to find out that my confidence is misplaced."

With that he left the room, leaving Wolsey standing frozen. The Cardinal knew a threat when he heard one. He also knew that Henry was desperate to ensure that his father's line did not end with him. There were possibilities. Wolsey himself would prefer an annulment; Katherine of Aragon had always done all she could to undermine him and he would not mind getting his revenge. Also, it would mean he could push for a French marriage, and a French alliance. However, that was an unlikely option. Her nephew was the Holy Roman Emperor, and he had a lot of power. The Pope would look at that, along with Katherine's spotless reputation, and say that there were no grounds for an annulment.

There was one other choice. Henry could take advantage of the handmaid contract. But if he did so, the woman in question would have to be English; no daughter of a royal house would accept such a position, and indeed, kings could only select women of their own country to take on the role. But if he did that, the woman would have to be carefully selected, something Henry was likely to balk at. Wolsey felt that no matter what option they went with, the road ahead would be complex and difficult. So far, he had thrived on such situations. But he had seen the look in Henry's eyes. On other things, he might falter a little and be forgiven due to long, successful service. But on this… if he failed, he would be ruined. And if he failed, and Henry took matters into his own hands, God knew what would come of it.

A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this one…


	6. Game, Set, and Match

Disclaimer: Not mine. Do you actually need me to tell you that?

_**Chapter 5 – Game, Set, and Match:**_ "Does he want an annulment?" Thomas More asked sharply.

"No, or at least he didn't specify that," Wolsey said tiredly. "What he wants, above all, is a legitimate son. If that means some loophole whereby he can legitimize Lady Blount's son, he'll take it. If it means using the handmaid option, he'll take it. And if an annulment is his only option, then he'll take that."

"He can't set Katherine aside. The people would never forgive him for it," More asserted. Knowing of the tensions between Queen and Cardinal, he couldn't help but add, "You didn't suggest it, did you?"

"No," Wolsey retorted. "I might have, because if we took that route, it would allow for a French alliance through marriage, but Charles V is too powerful to risk it. It would be a disaster even if it was successful, and it's far more likely that it won't be."

"So you're going to push the handmaid option?"

"I don't see that I have a choice. I've gone through everything; there's absolutely no way for him to legitimize Fitzroy. We can't risk trying for the annulment; so he's stuck with a handmaid."

"His knight-errant side isn't going to like that."

"He's too desperate to care."

More nodded. "True. How will the handmaid be chosen?" He knew that, officially, either the King or the Queen chose the handmaid, and he thought Katherine would make a wiser choice than Henry. However, the odds of the King allowing _that_ were ones even the most optimistic and foolhardy gambler wouldn't consider. Which meant that Henry would choose, and God knew what girl his fancy would alight on.

"That's the problem," Wolsey conceded. "The King is likely to select whatever girl has most recently caught his eye, and there's no way to predict what the chit he picks will do once she's the second woman in the kingdom."

More winced. There were stories of the times when the chosen handmaids were overly ambitious, and tried to take the Queen's throne before God's time. Occasionally they even succeeded, though they were usually put to death for treason. That didn't bring back the women they had killed. And if Henry chose wrongly, it would not bring back Katherine either. Even Wolsey, who did not like Katherine, clearly saw how bad such a situation would be.

"You can't guide him?" he asked the Cardinal, knowing what the answer was likely to be.

"In matters of the heart? Hardly, Thomas. No, all I can do – all any of us can do – is hope that whoever His Majesty picks won't be prepared to turn everything upside down."

* * *

Henry knew he was moodier than usual, but with any luck, his friends would chalk it up to his brush with death recently. That was certainly part of it, along with his newly strengthened desire for a son, but there was more to it. Thanks to a woman.

Anne Boleyn had left court. He couldn't understand why. He had kept his distance from her, dancing with her only once since she returned his jewel. Clearly she was shy, and he'd been doing his best not to spook her. He'd spent some time speaking with her, but he kept the conversation light. What had he done wrong? He was doing everything he could to show her that he would never dream of pressing her, and she kept running away!

Her sister hadn't been nearly as shy… though that was likely Francis' doing. He pitied Mary; she'd admitted to being ordered to other men's beds by Francis. _He_ would never do that to one of his mistresses. If Anne thought that was how kings treated their lovers, maybe it was no wonder that she was so shy. He would have to be patient.

"Tell me, do any of you know much about Mistress Anne Boleyn?" he asked William and Anthony, wishing Charles was there. But his oldest friend was escorting his sister to Portugal, and he could have thought of no one better. Besides, he trusted Will and Tony.

"She's one of the Duke of Norfolk's many nieces, isn't she?" Will said, his brow creasing in a frown. "I know she had poor Henry Percy besotted last year; damn near broke his heart when his father said he had to marry Mary Talbot, lovestruck or no."

"She'd have never done anything with him though, not unless she had his ring," Tony put in. "I've heard some gossip about her. It probably comes from having a sister known as the 'Great Prostitute', but she's said she'll never be anyone's mistress. She wants something certain from a man."

"Can't say as I blame her, growing up at the French court," Will observed. "Why so interested, Your Majesty?"

Henry shrugged. "She was in the masque, and I danced with her for a time. I'd never met her, so I wondered what you two had heard. She's a good dancer." And apparently unwilling to be a man's lover if she wasn't also his wife. He couldn't give her that, but he could give her security. There was the position of _maitresse en titre_… and wasn't there another position, one that would solve his dynastic dilemma? He remembered his father mentioning it to him, but at the time, his boyish ideals had left him disgusted at the idea, and now he could barely recall it. He would ask Wolsey. After all, the man was supposed to be finding him a way to sire legitimate sons.

* * *

_"Go home. Let him wonder about you."_ There was a part of Anne that hated how Katherine could dismiss her so easily. Did she mean so little to the woman who meant almost everything to her? She suspected that might be the case, and she wasn't sure she could bear it. God, but it had been hard enough accepting that what she truly wanted would never come to pass; she had hoped they could at least be friends. But it seemed that would not be the case.

She could live with it. In the end, she'd agreed to do this, to put herself in this position, knowing it was only asking for more heartbreak. She had chosen this path and she had to hold to it. It was just so hard!

It was why she hadn't tried to make a case to remain at court. She needed the breather, the time away from Katherine to gather her thoughts and lick her wounds. She might even be taking things too personally; Katherine was doing what Anne herself usually did, focusing on what needed doing, on the practicalities. It probably meant nothing. She was being ridiculous.

Then there was the King. He had danced with her only once, but he'd also spoken with her, and God help her, she was beginning to understand how his charm was enough to capture the hearts of so many women. Not that she was falling for him; she could not forget the look in Katherine's eyes the night of the banquet in Fitzroy's honor, or the sight of her sister sobbing when her affair with the King had ended. She was going to be his lover, so enjoying his company was a good thing, but she was _not_ going to fall in love with a man like that.

* * *

Katherine chose her moment carefully, waiting until they had nearly finished their meal. "Henry? There is something I wished to speak to you about."

"What?"

She looked down, displaying proper wifely submission. "I know that I am getting older, and that I am unlikely to bear any more children."

"Katherine…" He sounded almost as though he wanted to comfort her, which was shocking. It almost made her hesitate, before she reminded herself sternly that Henry was sentimental, and above all mercurial, and tomorrow he'd be blaming her again for his lack of an heir, and she would have lost her chance.

"No, Henry," she said firmly. "It's true; I have come to admit it. Mary is a beautiful child, but I know that England is not Castile, and the English lords would rip her apart if she sat on the throne. I don't want to see her destroyed, or this country torn apart. So…" She paused yet again, the enormity of it all hitting her. She was asking her husband to take a permanent – hopefully permanent – lover, a woman who would bear the sons Katherine could not. As fond as she was becoming of Anne, as certain as she was that this was her best option, it was still difficult.

"Katherine?" Henry prompted. "What are you thinking?"

"Do you remember being told of the handmaid privilege?"

The word was enough to refresh his memory, and he now recalled the discussion he'd had with his father about it. "Yes, I remember," he said, wondering if she was going where he suspected.

"I think it's time you chose a handmaid for yourself, Henry."


	7. Checkmate

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 6 – Checkmate:**_ Anne was in the family carriage, heading back to court. According to her father, the King had asked for her to return to court. George, also in the carriage – it was raining – was interrogating her about events. "So, do you know what the King wants? Have you caught him?" he asked for the thousandth time.

"_No_, George!" she snapped, finally out of patience. "If I knew, don't you think I would have said as much by now, if only to stop you from pestering me?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Annamaria, but you can't blame me for being curious. This great scheme you and the Queen are working on, it's not something that happens every day, you know. I just want to know if you pulled it off."

"You want to know? It's not as though it affects you."

"Anne, you know better than that."

"Oh, fine, I know it will affect the family, but you're not the one putting everything on the line, you know. That's Katherine and I, and if it goes awry everyone else will be just fine, but I'll be in disgrace and Katherine will be facing annulment or a handmaid who might want to kill her. So don't try to make it seem as though you've the same right to be worried."

"Anne, calm down. I am worried about you, if it helps at all. But you know me, I'm always curious. Our nurse used to threaten to box my ears for it, remember?"

"But she never did, because she didn't know how Father would react." Anne smiled sadly. "He used to get upset about things like that. He used to care about us. Now it seems our only use to him is how we can be tools for advancement. He barely speaks to Mary anymore, and yet while she was a royal mistress, he was a doting father. Why is that, George?"

"I don't know, Anne," George admitted. It upset him too, although he'd learned enough of the policy at his father's knee to be focused on advancement himself. He couldn't imagine offering up his daughters as cavalierly as his father, though. He might still be able to do it, but he imagined it would not sit well with him. He didn't think it ever could, and he wondered how his father did it.

He was afraid for his sister as well. She had tumbled headlong into love, and the chances that her heart would not get broken – if it hadn't been already – were slim at best. If the King did not take her, either as mistress or handmaid, what would their father do to her? He could try to help her, but there was only so much he could do, and if things went wrong, he didn't think it would be enough.

* * *

"I have made a decision, Your Excellency," Henry said coolly. Wolsey looked at him, not entirely sure what the King was referring to.

"Your Majesty?"

"With regards to my need for an heir," Henry elaborated. "I have chosen to take advantage of the handmaid privilege."

Wolsey only just managed to keep his jaw from dropping in shock. He had thought that it would require a long explanation to make Henry see that this was the best option. For all that the young King took mistresses, and did not think anything of it, the position of handmaid was designed to be officially subordinate, and despite what he'd said to More, Wolsey was aware that Henry had a chivalrous side, one that might need pacifying.

"I must confess to some surprise, Your Majesty. I did not know you had an option in mind, or I would have focused all of my attention upon it."

"I am surprised as well, Your Excellency. I am surprised that you did not immediately come up with this scenario yourself. I told you to find a way for me to sire legitimate sons, and yet you fobbed me off."

Wolsey's mouth went dry. "The handmaid option is a drastic measure, Your Majesty. I first wished to ensure that there truly was no way for you to legitimize your son by Bessie Blount – an already-living son is, after all, even better than unborn potential sons. However, I was unsuccessful, and was already investigating the handmaid option to be certain that it would be what you needed."

"And is it?" Henry snapped.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I believe it to be the best choice you have."

Henry nodded. "Good. I believe that this requires no dispensation, but only the approval of the papal legate – you, in this case."

"That is true."

"Very well. When I have chosen my handmaid, you will take care of the necessary details."

Wolsey was tempted to try and influence the King's choice, but he remained silent. Henry was already angry with him for not immediately bringing up the possibility of taking a handmaid. His excuse about first investigating methods of legitimizing Henry Fitzroy may have pacified him, but he did not think it wise to risk angering the King yet again. He would make his choice, and they would all just have to live with it.

* * *

"Sir Thomas More to see you, Your Majesty," Lady Clifford said. She let More step past her before moving to the other side of the room, allowing him to speak with the Queen in near-privacy. He bowed and kissed the Queen's hand, and she gave him a wry smile. "The look on your face, Sir Thomas, you must have some pressing reason to be here."

"I just heard, Your Majesty, that the King… He intends to take a handmaid. I hoped you already knew, but if not, I thought you might want the warning."

Katherine smiled gently, appreciating the gesture – even if it was far from necessary. After all, there was no way More could have known that.

"I assure you, I am well aware of the King's plans."

More hesitated, but finally said, "Your Majesty, I know that this – "

"Must be difficult? Not as much as you are assuming, I'm sure."

"I worry about the King's choice. If she is ambitious, or if her family is, you could be in danger."

Katherine shook her head. "The family is ambitious, but the woman herself will stop them from doing what they might under other circumstances."

"So you know who it is?"

"Of course," she said, and then, noting that he still looked concerned, she decided to alleviate his fears. "I'm the one who chose her. Not that the King is aware of that."

More stared at her for a long minute, utterly poleaxed. The expression on his face almost sent Katherine into a fit of laughter, but she held back. "You see, Sir Thomas, I had already guessed what was likely to happen after Lady Blount had her boy. So I took steps to ensure that things would work in my favor."

Sometimes, More thought, it was easy to forget that Katherine of Aragon had not always been their gracious English Queen, that she had been born and bred as a fighting Spanish princess, the daughter of two cunning monarchs. Her father had even been held up by Machiavelli as the ideal prince. While More did not agree with Machiavelli's ideas of a good ruler, the point remained the same. And he did not doubt that Katherine was capable of the same ruthless action when necessary.

She would have had to choose a girl, let her in on the plans, and then… said girl would have had to seduce Henry. He paid little attention to court gossip, so he didn't know who Henry's latest paramour was, but it was likely that she was Katherine's choice of handmaid.

The door to the Queen's rooms opened and a dark haired young woman walked in. He remembered, when he saw the pearl necklace with a gold 'B' pendant, that she was Anne Boleyn, the younger daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, one of the King's ambassadors. She came over and gave Katherine her greetings, nodding to More afterwards, before joining the other ladies. But he noticed a quick glance exchanged between Mistress Boleyn and the Queen, one that seemed to be more than just a meeting of eyes, and a surge of realization surged through him. Oh, he didn't know for sure. He would not dream of asking for confirmation – and in any case, if he were right, he would soon have it. But he would have wagered all he owned that Anne Boleyn was going to be the King's handmaid.

* * *

Anne waited outside the King's privy chamber, having been summoned for an audience. She was the only woman among over a dozen men – which explained, perhaps, why Cardinal Wolsey noticed her. "Mistress Boleyn. What are you doing here?"

"The King sent for me, Your Excellency."

"What could a silly girl like you have to say to the King?" She bridled at his brush-off, but said nothing, and he walked away, clearly deeming her unworthy of his attention. Anne watched him go, her anger slowly morphing into grim amusement. If she was right about why she'd been summoned by the King, she would soon be the second lady in the kingdom, which would surely make Wolsey quite uncomfortable.

Conducted into the King's presence, she was startled when he came over to her and took both of her hands in hers. "Mistress Anne. I wanted to speak with you."

"I'm flattered, Your Majesty."

"My name is Henry," he told her, shaking his head.

"Henry… What is it you need to speak to me about?"

"I'm sure you know that I'm never going to have a son with my wife. I know you wish to avoid being any man's mistress, that you would prefer the security of being his wedded wife. I can't give you that, Anne… but I can offer you security. I would like you to become my handmaid."

"Your handmaid? Your Majesty… Henry… I don't know what to say. I hardly think myself worthy of being chosen."

"You are," he assured her passionately. "You truly are. All you have to do is say yes."

She looked at him and found herself thinking that this was dangerous. Despite everything, she could see herself falling for him, at least a little. Too much of her heart was already lost for it to be more than that. And that loss was more dangerous still. But it bound her to one answer. Everything had come down to this moment, all the planning, the scheming, everything. All that was needed now was one word from her.

"Yes."

A/N: Poor Wolsey… and the idea of putting Thomas More into temporary shock was too appealing to resist. I begin to think I'm slightly sadistic.


	8. Signed and Sealed

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 7 – Signed and Sealed**_: "Mama, is it true? The servants said Papa's going to have another wife!"

Katherine looked around when she heard her daughter's indignant voice, giving Lady Salisbury, Mary's governess, a questioning look even as she dismissed her ladies.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Lady Salisbury explained, "but the Princess overheard some gossip and I thought it would be best if she knew the truth of the matter. I also felt it would be best coming from you."

Katherine nodded. "Very well, Margaret," she said, using her old friend's Christian name to assure her that it was all right. And indeed, she was not angry with Margaret; she was, however, displeased that servants had felt it permissible to discuss this within earshot of her daughter. She had intended on being the first one to speak of this to Mary, but she would have to make do with this situation. She calmed Mary down enough to get her to sit down, and then began to explain.

"No, _mi cielo_, your father is not taking a second wife. He is taking a handmaid."

"A handmaid?" Mary screwed up her small face in concentration, trying to recall whether or not she'd heard the term before. She hadn't. "What is that?"

"Do you remember how, in the Bible, Rachel told her husband to give her children through her maid, Bilhah?" Mary nodded and Katherine continued, "Kings are allowed to do something similar. The handmaid is like Bilhah, bearing the children that the Queen, like Rachel, cannot."

"But Rachel had _no_ children," Mary objected. "You and Papa have me!"

Katherine hesitated, trying to find a way to tell her daughter the truth without hurting her too much. She knew that Mary, inspired by Katherine's stories of her own mother, Queen Isabella, had devoted herself to proving that she was just as good as any boy. Katherine was aware that she should have discouraged such an unlikely goal, but she too had held the hope that Henry would accept Mary as his heir. Henry Fitzroy's birth had changed all that.

"I know, Mary, but… England has never had a reigning Queen, and the times that it's been tried, things went horribly wrong. Even if you are ready to be an heir, the lords might not accept you and they could revolt. Your father is afraid to risk it. This is why he wants a son." That was true, as far as it went. She couldn't tell her daughter that Henry thought women were inferior, so she used the excuse of English history – which was the main argument against female claimants to the throne.

Mary said nothing, not wanting to anger her mother, but she thought that this was unfair. She'd done everything she could think of to show her Papa that she could be Queen, and it had done nothing. Surely, her father had to have seen that she could be a good Queen. It had to be this woman, this handmaid, who had changed his mind. It wasn't right, and she would never forgive the woman for it, whoever she was.

* * *

"Anne, you have done better than I could have possibly imagined!" Boleyn exulted, giving his younger daughter a smile so like the ones she remembered from the days when he'd been a loving Papa to her and her siblings that it hurt to see it. He had once smiled that way because he loved his children, and now, he smiled because she had furthered his ambitions. What had happened? She thought perhaps she could trace it to her mother's death, but she couldn't be sure, because she'd been out of the country for so much of that time.

She smiled back, because it was expected of her, but George caught her eye from where he stood by the window, and the look in his eyes made her smile much more genuine. He was happy for her, but he also knew this wasn't easy, and he sympathized. She was grateful for that. At least she had one ally in her family – Mary wasn't here, and she was too flighty to be trusted with the truth of the situation anyway. Even if George's motives were mixed, she could trust him. She wasn't so sure about her father.

"Did the King say when this was to become official?" her father pressed, and Anne nodded.

"He said as soon as Cardinal Wolsey takes care of the necessary details, so within a week or so."

* * *

But in the end it was nearly four months before anything proceeded. The Sweat had come to England, and it stalled everything. The first one close to the King to die was William Compton, soon followed by his common law wife. Henry immediately took steps to ensure the safety of his two remaining friends – Brandon having been returned to favor despite marrying the King's sister Margaret, after her royal husband's sudden death – and of both Anne and the Queen. Anne was his new love, and while he did not care for Katherine as he once had, he was still fond of her. He did not want anything to happen to either of them.

But he could not control who they were exposed to, and the illness of Anne's maid foiled his attempts to protect his handmaid-to-be. She left for Hever even before knowing if she was ill, as anyone at risk could not remain at Court, but the fever struck on the carriage ride there.

Anne tossed and turned for days on end, muttering mostly in French to herself about things that the maids and doctor who tended her could only guess. George, who listened to Dr. Linacre's report when given to her father, could guess at what some of those things were, and was glad that the maids did not speak French and that the good doctor could make no sense of his sister's ramblings. If anyone found out the truth behind the position Anne would be taking up – if she survived, which George desperately tried to convince himself was a certainty – then everything would go awry.

It almost did, when Anne's sudden quiet proved to be a worsening of her condition. Dr. Linacre was certain that she would die, and advised the family to send for the local priest. George felt like part of his heart was being torn away, and he almost hated his father, whose grief was at least as much for the impending loss of his ambitions as it was for the nearing death of his daughter.

But, somehow, Anne pulled through. She was awake and alert when George saw her, if more than a little pale. Their father hugged her tightly, but the effect was ruined by his words; "Do you know what you've done, child? You've risen from the dead. Now you can go back to the King!"

George and Anne – and Mary – might be Thomas Boleyn's children, but none of them had any illusions left as to whether or not he thought of them as more than tools for advancement.

* * *

The relief Katherine felt when she received a letter from Anne explaining that she had recovered and asking to resume her place as a lady in waiting – her new position was not yet official and until them she was technically in Katherine's service – was more than she'd expected. She hadn't known what Henry's reaction would be if Anne died, though she knew it would not have been a good one. However, she had little reason to fear that it would have hurt her or Mary.

She told herself that it was natural to have become fond of Anne. The younger woman was charming, determined, and loyal, and with time would become a steadying influence on Henry. Katherine was sure of that. It was good if they were friendly, because they would have to continue to work together now that their situation was much more likely to be permanent. But this felt like the relief she'd felt after Henry's most recent jousting accident, when she knew that the husband she loved was all right.

That was not normal. Katherine didn't know what to make of it, and so she resolved to ignore it. Whatever it was, surely it could only cause problems, and the whole reason for all of this was to solve problems, not create more of them. She had to act as though nothing was unusual about her emotions, even when she feared that there was.

* * *

Anne's new dress was scarlet with a matching, gold-edged hood. She dressed carefully in front of the mirror that morning, knowing that today was going to change her life forever. Today she became the King's handmaid. She would be known simply as Lady Anne, but she would be of equal rank to royal Princesses, second only to the King and Queen.

She remembered the first time she'd seen the King after her illness. He'd ridden out to Kent to see her, and when they had met in the woods, her maid had left quickly and he'd embraced her in a tight hug, kissing her gently and lovingly. It had been such a change from her father's reaction to her recovery – happy only because she was useful to him. George's true joy had taken some of the sting away from that, but Henry's reaction had as well. She still refused to love him, but she was beginning to like him, and she took comfort from the fact that he loved her as she was. She had not pretended to be anything that she was not while following Katherine's advice; she had been adamant with herself that she would not. That meant that the King had fallen in love with _her_, as she was. Although she knew his love was often fleeting, that still meant something to her.

Katherine had seemed genuinely happy that she survived as well, enough so that Anne was certain that the Queen did care about her. She was more than a tool. It was something, if nowhere near all she wished for, but it gave her the hope that she and her Queen could be friends at least. It was far better than it could have been. She only wished that Princess Mary could accept her. Anne sympathized with the young girl, and promised herself that she would keep Mary in her father's good graces, and do her best to win the girl over.

There was not much of a ceremony. The relatively small party – Anne, Henry, Katherine, and Cardinal Wolsey, along with Sir Thomas More and Anne's father and brother as witnesses – gathered in the royal chapel. King, Queen, and handmaid signed a contract which detailed the particulars of the handmaid option, before Wolsey marked it with the seal of papal legate. He then said a blessing over Henry and Anne, tying their wrists with a cord to mark the bond which was not marriage but still important, still good in the eyes of God.

Mary was also there, as her father thought it best that the royal family all be here. He would have insisted that his sister and brother-in-law come too, but they were at Charles' estates still, and would not have made it in time. The young Princess had thought that the Sweat would make it clear to her father that God disapproved of his intentions, but it had not. If anything, it had made him even more convinced that he needed a male heir. She did not quite wish that her father's new handmaid had been carried off by the illness, but she couldn't help but think that perhaps things would have been better if she had been.

A/N: Oh dear, seems as though Katherine didn't get the point across to Mary. As for the short treatment of the Sweat, I apologize to anyone who would have preferred I take more time on it. I almost skipped it completely, but decided I couldn't just write it out of history. The cord bit is actually taken from what I know of handfasting, which is maybe not the best inspiration (handfasting is Wiccan, as far as I know) but I thought it worked well enough.


	9. Newcomers and Implosions

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 8 – Newcomers and Implosions:**_ Just over a month later, Anne was beginning to worry a little. She'd written to Mary, who told her that it was perfectly normal for it to take a few months before pregnancy. But Mary wasn't supposed to be the mother of the heir to England's throne. She could afford to be so casual about it. Anne could not.

It wasn't as though they weren't trying, she thought wryly. Her new rooms were closer to Henry's than Katherine's were, and he took full advantage of that. It was a relief to not have to hold him off, she had to admit that. And if she were honest with herself… she enjoyed being with him. It had been awkward at first, but she'd been able to tell herself that it was better than it could have been. At least she liked Henry, even if she did not love him. But as of now, there was nothing to show for it.

Her father had made his displeasure clear, and had spent a good hour questioning her to make sure she wasn't doing anything that might prevent conception. As if she would! She knew quite well how important it was that she fall pregnant quickly. Despite what men in general seemed to believe, women really only had so much control over such things. But there was no use telling her father that.

Henry, on the other hand, seemed to be taking it in stride. Anne was surprised at this, but Katherine hadn't been. "He's not going to be upset over it yet, because it hasn't been long enough for him to be impatient," the other woman had explained. "And he's besotted with you, which helps quite a lot."

She'd heard a hint of bitterness in Katherine's voice during that conversation, and couldn't exactly blame her. She wanted to, though; she'd done this because Katherine had asked her to, not because she'd wanted to. The fact that she didn't regret it now did not change how it had begun. It didn't seem fair that the person who had started all this now seemed to blame her for it, to some extent.

"My lady?" Anne's musings were interrupted by one of her new maids.

"The Queen's chamberlain sent a page… Apparently there was a mix-up and your new companion was told to report to him."

Anne nodded. 'Companion' was the name given to the young woman who would be, in essence, Anne's lady in waiting. She had a full household of servants, but was only allowed one or two companions. She had decided on just one, for now, though her uncle had commented that in a few years she had a cousin, Katherine, who would make a nice second companion. She would have asked Mary to be her companion now, but her sister was reveling in domestic bliss out in the country, and Anne didn't want to ruin that.

So she'd taken a girl of Katherine's suggestion, the daughter of a former lady in waiting and one of Katherine's many godchildren. She was a sixteen year old girl from a good family, one a little better than Anne's own on her father's side. And the poor thing had to be terribly confused right now, so Anne quickly sent off one of her own pages to fetch the girl.

* * *

Katherine Parr had come to court with a strong sense of relief. She hadn't really wanted to marry Baron Borough, a man so much older than she was, and when her mother had offered her the chance to go to court instead, she'd taken it. But nothing had gone right since she'd left Kendal Castle. First, the carriage wheel had broken, and they'd been delayed for two days while trying to get someone in the village they'd sheltered in to fix it. Then most of the rest of the trip had been made during the pouring rain. She was sheltered from the worst of it in the carriage, but it had still been unpleasant.

Now she'd come to court and they didn't even know where she was supposed to go! She knew that she was not to serve the Queen; instead she was to be assigned to the King's new handmaid, Lady Anne Boleyn. Kate wasn't bothered by that, though she knew her mother was slightly put out by it. She was excited to be serving the Lady Anne, who was only twenty. It wasn't that the Queen was old, it was that with the Lady being so close in age to Kate, she hoped that maybe they could become friends. She'd had few friends outside of her siblings, and it could be lonely at times.

Lady Anne's page arrived to take Kate to meet her new mistress, to the girl's relief. She was beginning to fear that it had all been some kind of mistake and she would have to marry the baron after all. But apparently it had only been a clerical error, or something of the sort. She really was supposed to be here.

Conducted into the presence of the King's handmaid, Kate curtsied to the exact degree her mother had said was appropriate, hoping that she didn't appear as a country bumpkin. A hand came into her frame of vision, offering her help to rise. Kate took it, looking up into friendly blue eyes. "Hello, Mistress Katherine," Lady Anne said lightly. "I'm sorry about the confusion."

"It was nothing, my lady. And…um, everyone calls me Kate," she added, a little worried that she was being presumptuous, but it was true. She was only called Katherine when she'd done something wrong, and being called that on a regular basis would not be good for her nerves. She just knew she'd jump whenever she heard it.

"Mistress Kate then," the other woman corrected herself with an amused smile. "And please, use my name."

"All right, Lady Anne."

Anne considered telling Kate that she'd meant _without_ the title, but reconsidered. She could get the girl in trouble for not showing proper respect, and she didn't want that. So she let it go for now. Later, when she and Kate had been together for a while, she would suggest that they dispense with all titles in private, but for now she would follow protocol.

After the maid she'd sent for refreshments came back with wine and a tray of small cakes, Anne sat at her small table and told Kate to sit across from her. "So, Mistress Kate, tell me about yourself."

Kate talked about Kendal Castle and about her siblings. "I'm the oldest," she said with a slight smile, "so sometimes they can be annoying, but I love them."

Anne laughed. "I'm the baby of my family, but my sister Mary often said the same sort of thing about my brother and me."

"Older siblings are all alike that way," Kate said with a nod.

"I imagine they are," Anne agreed. "Well, I suppose you'll want to get to your room to unpack and relax for a little while. I'll expect you at eight in the morning tomorrow, which is when we go to Mass, but you have the rest of today to yourself. I advise that once you unpack you explore a little. Start getting to know the palace."

"Thank you, Lady Anne," Kate said, curtseying to her new mistress before leaving. Anne sighed once the door closed. She still wasn't used to the show of deference by most of the people at Court. It seemed… wrong, somehow. Despite her official, sanctioned role, in some ways she still felt that she was no better than a mistress. The only real difference between her position and that of, for example, _maitresse en titre_, was that her children would be legitimate. In practice, the roles were nearly identical. She enjoyed being the second lady of the court, but it sometimes seemed like a spot she should not truly occupy.

Maybe it would have been easier if she'd done this of her own volition – or at her father's direction. Then the hint of jealousy she could see in Katherine's eyes wouldn't hurt so much. She wanted to scream at the other woman, to point out that this had been _her_ idea, not Anne's, and therefore she had no right to be angry when it was working! But of course she couldn't do that, because no one knew that it had been Katherine's idea, and even if she said it privately… Katherine still loved Henry. Anne knew that, and because she knew that, she could understand why Katherine was jealous of her, because she was the one who got Henry's love. After all, Anne herself was jealous of Henry for a similar reason. That didn't make it any easier to take.

* * *

Kate had unpacked and taken a short nap, having slept little on her journey thanks to nerves, and after waking up, she decided to follow Lady Anne's advice and explore a little. The maid she'd brought with her from Kendal, Joan, seemed to think it was a bad idea, but Joan worried far too much. Kate didn't think that the Lady would give her any advice that wasn't good; she didn't seem to be cruel in that way.

She found herself in one of the palace courtyards, which was very nice, even though it was autumn. It was not late enough in the autumn for it to have gone brown, so the trees there still bore brightly colored leaves. It was a little bit like home, and it made Kate realize that she was a little homesick. Not very, but a little. Just enough to be comforted by something familiar.

She noticed a dark-haired girl sitting on a stone bench. She had a book open in her lap, but she was not reading it. Instead she was staring – no, glaring – at a small bush in front of her. Curious, Kate stepped forward. "What did that bush do to you that you glare so?"

The girl's head snapped around and she turned that glare on Kate. "How dare you speak to a Princess of England that way?"

Kate immediately dropped into a curtsey, hating herself for being such a fool. Of course, a child that young at court could only be the Princess Mary! "I did not know, Your Highness. I am new to court."

"New? Who are you?"

"Mistress Katherine Parr, Your Highness."

"Do you serve my mother?"

"No… I serve the Lady Anne Boleyn."

Mary scowled harder. "If you serve her, I don't want you near me. Leave!"

Kate rose and left, deciding that it was wiser to avoid angering the young royal any more than she had already. She really seemed to be making a mess of things today. With any luck, she would do better once she was spending most of her time in Lady Anne's service.

* * *

"I think you were right to recommend Mistress Parr as my companion. She's young, but she seems to be a sweet girl, if a little shy," Anne told Katherine. The Queen nodded but did not seem particularly interested in the statement. Odd, since she'd advocated Kate's placement so strongly.

"Is something wrong?" Anne pressed, her voice worried. They were alone at the moment, Katherine having dismissed her ladies when Anne arrived, so she wasn't as concerned with appearances as she might otherwise be.

"No, of course not," Katherine said with a bitter smile. "Why would anything be wrong?"

Anne hesitated before pressing on. Technically she should not say what she was thinking, but she decided to throw caution to the winds. "You're lying."

"Am I? Well, if I am, it's only because you are a fool to ask such a question. 'Is something wrong?' I'm watching my husband openly show his love for another woman, while our daughter and I are all but ignored. Of course that should not be a problem for me, should it?"

Anne felt cold with shock. But then, like ice breaking, that coldness shattered, and what was underneath it was white-hot anger, rushing out with all the words she'd been swallowing for a month.

"It was _your_ idea, not mine! You asked it of me, and I did it, though I did not like the King. I always hated men like him, men whose love is so fleeting and who cannot see or care about those they hurt. But I seduced him, I made him love me, and I did it for you!" She paused, knowing that if she said this last thing, it could destroy all she'd done, but it would not be held in any longer. "Don't you know that I would do _anything_ for you?"

She didn't wait to find out what Katherine's reaction would be. She stood up so quickly that her chair fell over and ran from the room. She managed to make it back to her quarters with an appearance of calm, though that fell away the second her door closed behind her and she saw that there were no servants about. Then she collapsed in tears.

It had all gone so wrong. And now that she'd said… Oh God, what was going to happen now? She didn't even want to think about it. It had been, quite possibly, the worst idea of her life. And yet she could not truly regret it. She'd hated keeping everything trapped inside, and for better or worse, the truth was out now. It occurred to her that perhaps this was some sort of fatalism, but she didn't really care.

She was still angry, though. How could Katherine make her do this, and then turn around and resent her for it? Even if it was painful to see Henry fawning on Anne, Katherine should have known it would be like that. If she wasn't able to accept it as part of the bargain, why had she done this anyway? And why couldn't she blame Henry, if she had to blame someone?

She heard the door opening and stood quickly, glad her tears had dried long ago. Henry stood in the doorway, and suddenly, a flash of desire ran through her body. Henry loved her. Henry wanted her, and he didn't resent her for things that were not really her fault.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said with a smile. "How are you today?"

She gave him her best coquette's smile as she walked over to him. "I'm just fine, Henry, and you?" She stepped right into his personal space and traced her fingers up and down his chest.

"I…" He trailed off as her hand slipped lower. "Anne…"

"You know, there is one advantage to my not being pregnant yet," she said, lowering her voice. "We need to keep trying."

"That's true," Henry agreed in a whisper before bringing his lips down onto hers. It never occurred to him that this was the first time she had initiated one of their embraces. Anne knew, however, and she knew that she was just using Henry to make herself feel better, and perhaps for some revenge, but he didn't need to know that. Besides, he used women all the time. It was just a taste of his own medicine. And right now, she didn't care if it was right or wrong; it was the only thing she could think of that would ease the pain, if only for a while.

A/N: Oh dear… Well, we all knew Anne couldn't keep her emotions locked up forever. Something had to give. I hoped you guys liked the intro of Kate Parr – I know she doesn't seem much like Queen Katherine Parr, but bear in mind she's about 20 years younger, and hasn't had two marriages to men several decades her senior. Also, anyone who may like Kate/Tom Seymour, sorry, it's not going to happen. Partly that's because I don't like him, and partly because the story wouldn't allow for it if I did. However, if anyone has any ideas for other matches for her, my ears are open.


	10. Overtures

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 9 – Overtures:**_ _"Don't you know that I would do __**anything**__ for you?"_ Katherine sighed as Anne's words ran through her mind once again. She'd expected, once the angry words about Henry had left her mouth, that the younger woman would have some defense, but she hadn't expected her to lose her temper quite so spectacularly. And she certainly had not anticipated Anne's parting shot.

Most likely, it was caused by the dramatic side of Anne that Katherine had already noticed, but that did not mean the sentiment wasn't genuine. Anne's loyalty had been the deciding factor in Katherine's choosing her as the handmaid candidate, after all. She had not considered the other woman's temperament though. Perhaps she should have.

All things considered, it was possibly a miracle that it had taken this long for something to make Anne lose her temper. Katherine had been raised to hide her emotions, to keep herself under tight control. All royal children were, with varying degrees of success. Margaret and Henry were both examples of royals whose natural tendencies overruled their upbringing at times. Their older sister Mary, who had been married to the King of Scotland, and Arthur had both been better at concealing how they felt. Anne, however, for all that she had spent most of her childhood and adolescence in foreign courts, had not been trained in the same level of self-control. Nobles were allowed more expression of emotion, and Anne was a naturally passionate young woman. Katherine had noticed that she was the sort of person who tended to love and hate in equal measure, with very few exceptions.

Despite the overly emotional words, she even had a point. Katherine had known that Henry would spend the bulk of his time with Anne, at least at first. She was a novelty, she was young and beautiful, and she had an exotic air about her. It was to be expected. She had tried to prepare herself for it, and until Anne had pressed the point, she'd thought she'd succeeded. It occurred to her now that she had not been as prepared as she'd thought, not if she was blaming Anne for the inevitable.

It was Henry's treatment of Mary that was hardest to stomach. Their daughter did not deserve to be ignored because her father had a new love interest. That had been what had finally made Katherine lash out at Anne. She had done this to protect her daughter, not to see her shunted into the shadows. Still, in the end Katherine had to concede that the blame for that could be laid at Henry's door and not anyone else's. It did not make it easier to stomach – if anything it made it worse – but it did remind her that Anne wasn't the one she should be upset with.

The day the formal announcement had been made, Henry Percy had dragged his unwilling wife to Northumberland, and it was said he could not bear to return now that the last forlorn hope of reuniting with Anne had been lost. Thomas Wyatt, who as a married man should not have had any reaction at all, had been writing increasingly melancholy poems, if the gossip her ladies so cheerfully indulged in was any indication. It was logical to conclude that both of them had wanted to be with Anne, and were upset at having finally lost her for good.

As for Anne herself, Katherine did not know if she'd truly wanted to marry Percy, or if Wyatt had been making some plan to free himself of his unwanted wife and then offer marriage to Anne. She didn't know if Anne would have preferred one of them, or another man at court, to the king. A girl who became a handmaid had the chance to become the permanent second woman of the kingdom, but she gave up any chance at a real marriage – unless she did not produce a son. But if she had produced one or several daughters, she got a normal marriage but lost any children she had borne the King. It was not an ideal position, and Katherine had known that for a girl who had watched her sister be mistress to two Kings, the idea of becoming what in some ways amounted to a sanctioned mistress could not be something she'd wanted.

She would have to make allowances for the other woman. It likely was not easy for her either, and it wasn't her fault if Henry was doing exactly what they'd hoped he would, becoming enraptured with her. Katherine just hoped that Henry would not always be blind to all others; she could live with it for herself, but not for Mary. Her daughter deserved better.

* * *

"I do speak French, and I can read it fairly well, but I'm afraid my mother doesn't set quite as much stock in education as the Archduchess Margaret must have," Kate said sheepishly in response to her mistress' question. Anne nodded; few noble girls got the sort of education she and her sister had received in the Netherlands. French was a must for any girl who hoped to come to court, but beyond that… it depended on the household, and apparently Maud Parr had focused what instruction her daughter had received on other matters.

"So what did you study?"

"Religion mostly," Kate said. "In fact, that's almost all I learned about. It was all right though; I found it fascinating. I also… Well, I spent a lot of time in my father's library, especially after he died, so I was able to read a lot of his books."

"That's good. I imagine there were a lot of history books."

"And some law books as well. I didn't really like those."

"I don't blame you for that, and I have to agree with you on religion," Anne admitted, thinking of the books she had at Hever, books that could, even now, cause trouble for her if anyone knew of them. "But you really ought to be more well-rounded than that," she said with a smile, standing and walking over to a small chest filled with books. The volume she selected was a French novel, hardly a serious academic pursuit, but something she thought a young woman would enjoy. And it would make a good beginning.

"Here," she said. Kate took it and frowned at the title.

"Is this a novel?"

"Yes."

"My mother disapproved of them. She said they were useless frivolity."

Anne shook her head. "Well, while your mother may have had a point, I think you'll like it. But if you'd prefer not to read it – "

"Oh, no! I was just a little unsure. I'd like to read it, truly." Kate took the book with a smile, and Anne managed not to laugh. She'd already gotten the impression that the girl was an avid reader, and she'd calculated that the best way to get her past any discomfort was to take the offered book away. And she'd been right.

The door opened to admit Henry, who frowned at the sight of Kate, who he had not yet been introduced to. Both women had dropped into curtsies at the sight of him, though Anne had risen immediately afterwards, at Henry's nod. Now he approached Kate, who remained on her knees but looked up at him uncertainly.

"And you are?"

"Mistress Katherine Parr, Your Majesty," she said respectfully.

"Kate is my new companion," Anne put in. "She arrived yesterday."

Henry nodded, before offering Kate a hand up. "Welcome to court, Mistress Kate."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

* * *

Kate left a few minutes later, when it became clear that the King wished for time alone with Lady Anne. She returned to her room and curled up on her bed with the French novel, immediately becoming engrossed in it. She read for several hours, until she felt the beginnings of a headache. That was a sign she'd been at it too long, so she marked her page and left the room, heading for the garden she'd been to yesterday, hoping she would not run into the Princess again.

Her hopes were dashed when she saw the dark-haired girl, and she turned to go, but a voice stopped her. "Mistress Parr!"

Kate turned back, dropping into a curtsey. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Yesterday I was rude to you," the Princess said. "I should not hold your place with Lady Anne against you, whatever my feelings for my father's handmaid."

"It was nothing, Your Highness. If I may…?"

"What?" Mary said with an arched eyebrow.

"My father died when I was quite young, and my mother remarried. It is not an easy thing, I know, to see a beloved parent seem to love someone other than your mother or father."

Mary's imperious expression wavered, and for a moment Kate saw not a Princess, but just a young girl, whose world no longer operated in a way she understood. Her heart went out to the younger girl, despite their unpleasant first meeting.

Mary, for her part, wasn't entirely sure how to react. On one hand, she was irritated at Mistress Parr's presumption, and yet… No one understood, no one could understand, not fully, but the thought of having someone who might understand a little was a tempting one. "How did you accept it?" she asked finally.

"There wasn't anything I could do about it, and my mother was happier once she remarried and didn't have to do everything on her own. I told myself it was God's will, and that my father would not have been angry about it."

Mary frowned. "My mother is not angry about Lady Anne's appointment, and I don't understand why."

"I have never met the Queen, Princess, so I cannot say why she would not be upset. Perhaps she believes that there are worse things that could happen, but I really don't know."

Mary nodded. She couldn't have expected an answer from a girl only a few years her senior, not when her mother herself wouldn't explain. But she was still glad of the sympathy, and the understanding. She gave Mistress Parr a true smile, not the polite one she'd worn when she'd first seen her, and she got an equally real smile in return. It occurred to Mary that she may have just made one of her first real friends.

* * *

Anne was amused by how Kate had become attached to the novel she'd lent to her companion. She seemed to always have it with her, and slipped in moments for reading whenever she could. But even her amusement could not distract her for long.

It had finally dawned on her just how much of a mess she'd put herself into with her ill-considered outburst to Katherine. It was a good thing she'd stopped when she had, or she would have incriminated herself beyond all excuse. At least she could still come up with something that would explain her dramatics. She had initially thought to blame illness, but that didn't strike her as a good idea – in Anne's case, at least, illness made her lethargic, and less likely to lose her temper. But finally she hit on something that actually was true, and the cause of a good bit of her stress.

She explained herself in a brief note, before signing and sealing it. "Kate?" she asked.

"Yes, Lady Anne?"

"Could you please deliver this to the Queen?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kate said, putting down the novel at once and taking the note from Anne's hand. She left immediately, and Anne said a silent but fervent prayer that this would be the end of it.

A/N: I hope Kate doesn't get too lost. And I'm sorry for anyone who wanted to see that frustration build up into something a little more… fun; Katherine's not going to come around (or would that be come across?) for a while yet; it's just not something I could do realistically.


	11. Easing the Burden

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 10 – Easing the Burden:**_ It only took about five minutes from the time she left Lady Anne's rooms for Kate to realize she had absolutely no idea where she was going. Unfortunately, she'd already turned several corners and wasn't entirely sure how to get back to Lady Anne's rooms either. She stopped in the corridor, glancing around hopefully, but the area appeared to be deserted.

She tried to go back the way she'd come, but she knew almost immediately that she'd ended up in a completely different corridor than those she'd already seen. This just was not going well at all.

"Are you lost?" asked a male voice from behind her. She whirled to see a tall, dark haired young man with amused hazel eyes looking at her. She remembered seeing him last night, from her place at dinner with the Queen's ladies, and one of the other women – a Jane Parker, if she remembered correctly – had told her that he was Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey and the Duke of Norfolk's son and heir.

She was about to drop into a curtsey when he said, "You know, it'd be rather stupid of you to waste time on that when I'm offering to help you find your way. You're Mistress Parr, Lady Anne's companion, correct?"

"Yes, my lord. My lady sent me on an errand to deliver a note to the Queen, but I'm afraid I don't know how to get to her rooms."

"Well, you're in luck, Mistress Parr, because I happen to know exactly how to get there. Just follow me, and we'll get you there and back."

Kate nodded and followed him along the corridors and up a flight of stairs, thinking that it was no wonder she'd gotten lost – this route was impossible. Finally they reached a set of doors with a guard in front of them. Lord Howard stepped aside and Kate explained herself to the guard, who nodded and opened the door, beckoning one of the ladies inside over and telling her why Kate was there. The woman looked at Kate and beckoned for her to come in.

Kate entered and followed the woman through the first room, filled with ladies busying themselves with embroidery or other tasks, and then into a smaller room where the Queen sat with Princess Mary and a blonde woman Kate didn't know. She curtsied when the woman with her did, and rose at the same time. "Your Majesty," the woman said, "Mistress Katherine Parr to see you."

"Very well, Lady Darcy." Lady Darcy took the Queen's words as a dismissal and left the room. Kate waited until the Queen nodded to her and then approached, holding out the note.

"Lady Anne asked me to give this to you, Your Majesty," she said politely.

The blonde woman let out a derisive snort, and the Queen gave her a reproachful look. "Margaret…" she said quietly. The other woman, who Kate realized must be the King's sister, Princess Margaret, rolled her eyes but said nothing. "Thank you, Mistress Parr," the Queen said to Kate as she slit the letter open. Kate waited while she read it, thinking that she might need to convey a response. The Queen was reading the note, but Princess Margaret was staring at Kate, and her expression was far from friendly. Kate fought not to shift under that cold gaze, but then Princess Mary caught her eye and smiled. Kate smiled back, feeling better.

"Tell Lady Anne that I would like to speak with her soon, but that I'm glad she sent this to me."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kate said, curtseying again. She had planned to leave right afterwards, but the Queen said, "I understand you are new to court. What do you think of it?"

"I like it very much, Your Majesty."

"Your mother was one of my ladies before she married. She enjoyed it as well. I hope you continue to like your time here."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Kate curtsied again and left when the Queen nodded. She went back through the outer room and met Lord Surrey outside.

"Would you like me to help you find your way back to my cousin's rooms?" he asked.

"Your cousin?"

"Lady Anne's mother was my father's sister. She's my first cousin. Most people know that, but I forgot, you're new to court."

"Oh. Thank you, for guiding me."

"Well, it wouldn't be right to let a lady wander about the palace. I was just doing my duty."

"Still, I'm grateful."

"Well, if you are, then you can prove that by dancing with me after dinner tonight."

They'd reached Anne's rooms, and Kate stopped dead in front of the door, staring at him. "I… All right."

"Excellent. I shall see you tonight then, Mistress Parr."

He walked away before she could say anything, and she went to open the door. She'd only cracked it open before she froze, however.

"How is it that you still are not with child?" That voice belonged to Sir Thomas Boleyn, Lady Anne's father. Kate frowned, wondering why he sounded so angry, as though he thought his daughter's not being pregnant was something she did on purpose.

"I can only do so much, Father!" Anne snapped. "I cannot become pregnant simply by wishing for it, and I'm doing all that anyone can do to conceive. That it has not happened yet is not my fault."

"If you can't conceive, the family will be ruined. You had better figure out what is going wrong." Footsteps came toward the door, and Kate hurriedly backed away, letting the door ease the rest of the way shut. She backtracked down the corridor so that when Sir Thomas came out, he thought she was only just arriving. He barely even glanced at her as he stormed past, to her relief.

Lady Anne was seated at her writing desk, her head in her hands. "My lady?" Kate said quietly. Anne looked up and Kate could see that she'd been crying.

"Yes, Kate?"

"The Queen said she would like to talk with you soon, and she's glad you sent the note."

Anne nodded. "Thank you, Kate."

"Is there anything you need, my lady? You're upset; is there some way I can help?"

Anne shook her head. "No, Kate, but thank you for asking. Why don't you take some time to yourself? I'm not really good company right now."

Kate shook her head. "It would be wrong of me to leave you alone when you're so upset." Her eyes landed on the virginals sitting off to the side. "I could play for you. I'm not really good, but I'm not bad either."

Anne considered it, and then nodded. "All right. Thank you." She listened to the song Kate began on the instrument, a country ballad she remembered from her own girlhood, and bit her lip to stop more tears from falling. It was ironic, she thought, that her note to Katherine had blamed family troubles for her outburst, because her troubles in that area seemed to only be getting worse.

* * *

When Anne made her way to Katherine's rooms, she went alone, without Kate or any of her servants. Kate had left to get ready for dinner a little earlier than usual – Anne had allowed it, and she suspected that the younger girl was excited about a boy at court. She wished Kate well in her first foray into court flirtation.

The ladies who had once been her compatriots didn't know what to make of her now. They'd all seen how loyal Anne had been to Katherine, and yet her current position had them all wondering if that had been an act. Anne was well aware of their suspicions, but she could say nothing without making trouble for both herself and Katherine. She would never do that.

Katherine was alone when Anne was brought in to her, which was a relief. Kate had said that the Princesses Mary and Margaret had been there when she delivered Anne's note. To have this conversation when they were present would have been impossible, and even being in the same room would have been awkward. Especially in Margaret's case; Anne wasn't entirely sure what it was, exactly, that Henry's sister had against her, but Margaret seemed to really hate her. Perhaps it was for her son's sake, as young Edward Brandon could have easily been preferred as heir over his female cousin, or maybe her pride simply couldn't take having to yield precedence to a knight's daughter. Anne didn't really know, but it made spending any time around Margaret acutely uncomfortable.

"Your Majesty," Anne said, curtseying slightly – as the second lady in the kingdom, she wasn't required to curtsey as deeply as any non-royals would.

"Anne. I received your note, and I understand how that could upset you. May I ask which family members were causing such trouble?"

Anne shrugged, trying to make it seem as though she now considered it of little importance. "My father is concerned because I'm not yet with child, and my brother's being his usual aggravating self, in the way of brothers. It really wasn't much, I simply let it affect me more than I ought to have, and it left me far too highly strung."

Katherine nodded, though she didn't quite believe the other woman. She didn't think Anne's excuse was the whole truth behind her earlier outburst, but for some reason she didn't want to press further on that. She felt as though she would not like the answer, and that it would be something that would be difficult to deal with, so she let it go. However, she did believe family troubles had been part of the problem, and she was certain that Anne was downplaying them. She did not like that.

"I don't believe that."

Anne flinched. "It's true, honestly."

"Perhaps, but I don't believe it's as unimportant to you as you're making it out to be."

"That may be true, but it's just something I will have to learn to deal with, and I will. I'm sorry it caused me to be so rude to you, and it won't happen again, but there's nothing to be done about it, so there's no use talking about it."

Katherine scowled. "You're evading the issue, Lady Anne," she said coolly. "I want to know what is going on with that supposed family of yours to put you in such a state."

Anne smiled bitterly. "My father is very concerned with his position, as are all courtiers, and he feels that I jeopardize the family with every day that I am not pregnant. Since I can do no more to change my state, I was upset."

Katherine nodded. She could tell from the other woman's tone that the subject was painful, and so she let it drop for the moment. But she did not intend to forget it. Thomas Boleyn might think it was his right to berate his daughter, but Katherine did not think so, especially when that daughter outranked him. As for George Boleyn, well, that was likely a smokescreen, and even if it wasn't, it sounded like the usual tensions among siblings.

"Your companion is a sweet girl. Mary told me that they've spoken, and she seems to be trying to befriend my daughter."

"I hope that isn't a problem," Anne said. "It sounds like Kate; she's a good girl."

"No, I don't find it a problem at all. Mary does not know many young people, it will be good for her to have a slightly older friend."

Anne smiled at the thought of the charming young princess and the companion she was already fond of becoming friends. They would be quite a pair, she thought, and said as much. Katherine agreed with an amused smile of her own, and it was like most of the tension of the past month had faded away, leaving the sort of easy rapport they'd developed while working to get Henry to take Anne as his handmaid. It was a relief to be back to that again.

* * *

Henry had asked her to eat with him in his rooms, alone. Anne wasn't sure why, but she did as she was asked, only to find Henry staring at a letter, looking as though he had been weeping. "Henry, what is it?"

He looked up at her, and she could see the true grief in his eyes. "My son… my little boy is dead."

Anne's heart went out to him, to the little boy who had died before he could really live, and even to Bessie, who must be as devastated as the King – if not more so. At the same time, she thought that this might be an opportunity for her to speak to Henry on another matter.

"Oh, Henry, I'm so sorry," she said, sitting down next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"He caught a fever. It wasn't the doctor's fault, I know that, but I wish they could have done more for him," he said quietly, sounding almost broken, not something she would have ever expected from him.

"I heard he was a beautiful boy."

"He was."

"Henry…" she paused before plunging forward. "Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to spend more time with Princess Mary."

"What?"

"I just thought, spending time with the child you still have could ease your pain. From what I've seen, Mary is a bright, engaging girl, and I'm sure it would do you a world of good to be around her a little more. It would be good for her as well."

"She spends a lot of time with Katherine," he pointed out. "I'm sure that's better for a girl than time with her father."

"It's not, really," Anne said. "Little girls want to be their mothers, but they worship their fathers. A father is the first man a girl ever loves, and that's special. And especially right now, it can't be easy for Mary."

"Why not?"

"I know, you know, and Katherine knows that you want a male heir not because you don't love Mary, but because a male heir ensures the security of the realm. But Mary is young, and she might think it's because she's not a good enough child for you."

"That's not true!" Henry said, horrified. "I love my daughter! I think she'll make a great consort for a King someday, but I can't risk a foreigner on England's throne. It's not that I don't love Mary at all!"

"I know, Henry, but look at it from a child's perspective. I know when I was sent to the Netherlands, it felt like my father didn't want me, even though now I know it was for my own benefit, so I could enjoy opportunities I would not if I stayed in England. And I felt it again when Papa found places in the French court for my sister and I, instead of bringing us home and finding us places here."

Henry frowned, thinking it over. "But surely you had to know it was for your benefit."

"In my head, yes, but in my heart, all I knew was that the Papa who used to play with me at Hever didn't want me around. It wasn't his fault, it was my misunderstanding, but I wouldn't want to know another young girl felt the same way."

Henry nodded. "It would be nice to spend time with Mary."

"I'm sure it would help you both immensely," Anne said firmly.

"And when we have our children, that will help too. Don't worry, I promise I won't neglect Mary for them. We can encourage them all to become close, you and I."

"And Katherine as well; I'm sure she'd want Mary to be close to her siblings," Anne dared to say that, knowing it was a bit risky, but wanting to do it anyway.

"Yes, you're probably right," Henry agreed. He recalled that Katherine had been the one to see that he needed to take a handmaid in the first place. She would surely want to help ease things for Mary as time went on. "Thank you, sweetheart. You've helped me feel so much better."

"I'm glad," Anne said. She was also glad of the chance to speak for Mary, and with luck, what she'd said about Katherine had registered as well. Maybe things could be better for all of them now, especially if her suspicions about whether or not she was pregnant proved to be correct…


	12. Acknowledged and Observed

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 11 – Acknowledged and Observed:**_ She had been clean for over a month. She had not bled at all. Anne knew that one month was not enough to be certain of anything, but it was coming close to two months now, and she still had not bled. With any luck, she would turn out to be pregnant. It would make everything easier for her. Even if her child was a girl, that would still prove her fertility, and right now that was the most important thing.

And yet, if she was very unlucky, it would do her no good. She sometimes wondered if it was Henry's fault that he had only one legitimate child. Yes, he'd had a bastard son, but only one, and she remembered that King Francis had several bastards, male and female. Perhaps Henry's former mistresses were as well-versed as her sister Mary in ways to avoid pregnancy, but she doubted that somehow. And if it was Henry's fault, and she didn't have a boy… She would have a boy. Perhaps not the first child, but surely the second. She simply had to.

* * *

"I won't do it!"

"Margaret…" Brandon said tiredly, already weary, even though the fight had not really started yet.

"I will not bow to that jumped-up knight's daughter!"

_But you married a jumped-up standard bearer's son_, he thought, _whether I'm now a Duke or not_. He pushed those thoughts aside and said, "She's the second lady of the court, after the Queen. You don't have a choice. It's not as though you have to like her, Margaret. Just do what's required, and then avoid her. I'm sure she'll be all too happy to return the favor."

"It's disgusting," she said, scowling. "Not only that she's practically a commoner, but the whole handmaid practice. No one's done it in years, why did Henry suddenly decide to revive it? Mary's a perfectly acceptable heir, and if he wants a boy, he could have our Edward as heir."

"Margaret!" He could understand and to some extent sympathize with her dislike of Anne, but what she had just said was something else entirely. "That's treason."

"And you think Henry would dare to have me beheaded? He can't, I'm as royal as he is."

"No," Brandon shot back, "you and Edward would be locked up in the Tower for the rest of your lives, but I know I'd be short a head."

"He wouldn't."

"He almost did when I married you!"

"He wasn't serious," Margaret said, but her voice was a little uncertain. She'd told herself that her brother hadn't meant his heated words to her, but some part of her had never quite believed it.

"I'm not so sure of that," Brandon said grimly, shaking his head. "And either way, he can't let it stand if he thinks we're plotting on Edward's behalf."

"Fine. But it's still not right, and I don't think I can stand yielding to that girl."

"Please, Margaret, just try. If you can't come up with any better reason, think of Edward. If Henry's angry with you, with us, that will hurt him too."

Margaret sighed, and then nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. For her son's sake – and her husband's, though she wouldn't be telling him that anytime soon – she would make an effort. She didn't know if she'd be able to make herself do it when the moment came, but she'd try, at least. No one could ask any more of her.

* * *

Even though it was late October, they had recently been experiencing surprisingly warm weather. It was nice enough to have one last outdoor party before winter set in, and Henry wanted to take full advantage of that, even holding a tournament. He would ride in it, facing off against his friend Charles Brandon.

He had intended to wear Anne's favor, but at the last moment, he changed his mind, offering the tip of his lance to his daughter instead, so she could tie her ribbon around it. "My lady Princess?" he asked, raising his visor and giving Mary an indulgent smile. "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to wear your favor?"

Mary's answering smile was wide enough that Henry knew he'd done the right thing. She leaned forward and tied her ribbon carefully to his lance. "Here, Papa!"

"Thank you, Mary. I'm sure I'll win now, with the favor of the prettiest lady at court." He happened to catch Katherine's eye as he turned to face forward again. She inclined her head to him, and he responded in kind. He also noticed Anne's smile, and he gave her one of his own. Then he rode off to face Brandon.

Three rounds later, and both men had remained on their horses, though they'd broken several lances. By a slim margin of points, Henry won. "Well played, Charles," he said good-naturedly.

Brandon laughed. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"I think it's about time I presented you and Margaret to my new handmaid formally," he said. "Once the party begins in earnest, I'll do just that."

"Majesty," the other man said, inclining his head. Inside, he was more than a little worried. If Margaret couldn't keep herself in check, they were both in trouble.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the stands, Anne turned to Kate with a teasing smile. "I noticed that my cousin Hal was wearing your favor," she said lightly. "Is there something you're not telling me, Kate?"

"Lord Surrey was kind enough to guide me to the Queen's rooms the other day," the blonde replied with a smile.

"And now he's flirting with you," Anne said, amused. She just hoped her uncle didn't overreact and ruin it for the young pair. He'd been watching them, with the disapproving look he'd given her after her botched flirtation with Henry Percy.

"He's not!" Kate insisted. "He's just being friendly."

"Don't even try it, Kate, I know better," Anne informed her. "Honestly, I think a little flirtation never hurt anyone, and it should be good for you."

Katherine could hear the good-natured debate and noticed that Mary was listening intently, curiosity glittering in her eyes. Her daughter was quickly befriending Anne's companion, so that was hardly a surprise. However, she'd seen that someone besides Anne had noticed whose favor the young earl carried, and the Duke of Norfolk had not looked happy.

He wasn't the only unhappy duke. Charles Brandon did not look disappointed at his loss, but he did look extremely worried. He was speaking to Margaret intently, and Henry's sister did not look happy about whatever it was that he was saying to her. That meant it probably had something to do with Anne, Katherine decided, glancing at the younger woman. She too was watching Brandon and Margaret, though now she turned her head to look at Katherine.

"Henry said he wants to officially present me to his sister today," she said wryly. "I imagine that's what has Margaret so displeased; Brandon probably just told her."

"She's not going to cooperate willingly," Katherine murmured. Anyone watching would think the two women were exchanging polite words about the tournament, or something similar. It was behavior they'd intentionally exhibited before, ensuring that everyone was aware that the Queen and the handmaid were on cordial terms. It had been Anne's idea; she'd pointed out that they might need to discuss something in public, and it'd be best if people got used to seeing them talk, so it wouldn't be cause for suspicion. "But I think her husband is trying to convince her it's in her family's best interests to do what's expected of her."

"If not, this isn't going to be pleasant," Anne remarked, her voice just as soft.

The only people who could hear the women's words were Kate and Mary, who exchanged looks. The conversation was an odd one, and both the Princess and the companion were smart enough to grasp the tone of it as well. Katherine and Anne sounded like two people who were accustomed to discussing this kind of thing together. It made Mary start wondering why, exactly, her mother had been so accepting of Anne as handmaid. Perhaps it was because they already got along and her mother trusted the other woman? As for Kate, she simply noted it in her mind as something that could become important later; she'd already come to the conclusion that the best way to get by at court was to understand the dynamics between the people there, especially the prominent ones.

For example, she'd already noted with some sympathy that the Duke of Suffolk found his loose-tongued wife nearly impossible to control, although that was no great deduction – more than half the court knew _that_. But she imagined few of them knew that the seemingly strong partnership of Boleyn and Norfolk seemed to be one of pure convenience, with the two brothers-in-law despising each other for their own reasons. And it was likely that none of them knew that the Queen and the handmaid were on such comfortable terms.

Her father had been of the opinion that knowledge was power. It was why he'd kept such a large library, even if he had little time to spend in it. Kate didn't see why she couldn't adapt that policy to life at court. It seemed as good a plan as any.

* * *

Later, after the festivities were in full swing, Anne was speaking to her brother when Henry arrived, saying that he wanted her to formally meet his sister. George left them with a bow, but not before exchanging a wry smile with his sister when Henry wasn't looking; everyone was aware that Princess Margaret wasn't happy with the state of affairs concerning Anne. She certainly hadn't bothered to make a secret of it. Anne gave George a quick glare before leaving; he'd been teasing her, and she didn't find the situation amusing.

Margaret's refusal to acknowledge her, if it came to that, might not seem like much, but it set a risky precedent. The future of any children Anne bore was tied to her position as handmaid, whether it was permanent or not. If she was not accorded the proper respect, it threw her position into question, and that could hurt any children she might have. It wasn't a laughing matter – though she had to admit that George often had a tendency to treat _everything_ as a laughing matter.

Henry was holding her hand when they walked up to Brandon and Margaret, and he didn't let go. Anne was more grateful for that than she would have liked. "Charles, Margaret, I don't believe I've introduced you to my handmaid, Lady Anne Boleyn."

Brandon bowed immediately, kissing Anne's free hand. "Lady Anne." She saw a quick flash in his eyes – he did not quite approve of her either, having heard rumors about her, and she knew it. But at least he did not decide to show it.

Margaret stood there as her husband acknowledged the knight's daughter as a superior, trembling with anger. She could think of so many reasons why neither of them should waste their time on her, and even more why Henry should not. And yet… _"Please, Margaret, just try."_ She'd never heard Charles sound as though he was pleading before, and she'd seen the worry in his eyes as he thought about what would happen if she didn't behave as Henry would expect.

This woman might ensure that her little niece was never Queen, or that her own son could never be King, but rebuffing her could ensure that Edward spent all his days in the Tower with his mother, while his father's headless body rested under the St. Peter ad Vincula chapel. It wasn't worth it, even for pride's sake. She dropped into a quick curtsey, one that was, perhaps, shallower than it ought to be, but a curtsey nonetheless.

It looked for a second as though Henry would not accept that, but Anne placed her hand on his arm, and his growing scowl faded away. "You can stand, Margaret," he said. Then he led his newest lover away.

"That…" Margaret began, her voice a heated whisper.

"I know," Charles said quietly. "Thank you for going along with it, though."

Margaret shrugged, not wanting him to know just why she'd decided not to give the little upstart the slap she so richly deserved. She decided she would not stay at court much longer. She might have accepted the necessity of playing along with Henry's whims, but she didn't think she could stand to do so on a regular basis.

* * *

Anne thanked the midwife with a smile and nearly ran to Henry's privy chamber. She received an audience immediately, and it only took one look at her before he was out of his chair, his hands on her arms.

"Sweetheart, what is it? You look absolutely thrilled."

"I am," Anne said with a laugh. "Henry, I'm pregnant."

A/N: This was not an easy chapter to get out… I'm not sure why. Sorry for the lack of any real Henry/Mary cute stuff; good father/daughter dynamics are a new thing for me, so it could take some time.


	13. Conflagration

Disclaimer: Not mine.

I apologize for screwing up, but I was off by a year with all this – this is now November of 1528, not 1527. The sweating sickness was in summer 1528, and Anne became Henry's official handmaid in early September. The beginning of the story – that is, Katherine enlisting Anne – took place in February 1528.

_**Chapter 11 – Conflagration:**_ Katherine got the news in the form of a note from Anne. It was short and to the point, simply saying that she was pregnant. Clearly, the younger woman was trying for some discretion.

Margaret, who happened to be in the room when it was delivered, said, "Why would she tell you?"

"I imagine it was so I wouldn't hear it through gossip."

"You honestly think she was being polite, Katherine? I'd think she's trying to rub it in your face."

"Margaret…"

"Don't, Katherine. I know you have to put a brave face on it, but honestly! I'm leaving, I can't stand to see him parading his little slut around now that he's got her in pup, I really can't."

"Margaret!" Katherine finally snapped, out of patience. The other woman had been saying similar things about Anne since Henry had announced his intentions toward her, possibly thinking Katherine either agreed or was glad that someone disapproved of the situation. Although it was unfair to be more than irritated by Margaret's behavior – although the other woman would have certainly found Katherine's machinations amusing, she was far too loose-tongued at times to be trusted with the information – she found herself becoming truly angry over it.

Part of that was probably guilt – Margaret might be the only one saying it aloud, but others did share her opinion of Anne, and Katherine had been the one to put Anne in a position to be such a target. But that didn't explain it, not really. Katherine wasn't a total stranger to guilt – no one was – and she had never been the type to turn one emotion into another. So the easy explanation didn't work.

She had no more time to think about it though, because Margaret was speaking again. "What? I can't understand why you always defend her, when her very presence is an insult to you or should be! Good Lord, Katherine, are you really that devoted to my brother?"

The comment stung, especially as Katherine had been becoming more and more disillusioned of late where her husband was concerned. "That is not the point," she said, skirting around the subject so she wouldn't be forced to lie or expose herself to further questioning. "Getting upset over Lady Anne's presence isn't going to make things easier for any of us, and since she appears to be trying, the least I can do is to return the favor."

"That's ridiculous. If you keep this up, she's going to walk all over you."

"Margaret, how I handle this situation may not be how you would, but it is my decision, and I will act as I see fit. Do not bring it up again." Katherine bit the words out, thoroughly tired of Margaret's behavior.

"Very well, Your Majesty," said Margaret coolly. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to bid you farewell, as I still must take my leave of my brother and I had hoped to set out for home today." She left after that, leaving Katherine's ladies scandalized. Katherine herself was just glad that Henry's sister was gone. They really were far too much alike. It wasn't that she disliked Margaret, but lately she had become quite adept at rousing Katherine's ire. Granted, Margaret had become somewhat more volatile since her marriage to Charles Brandon, but that didn't seem to explain her new talent for getting under Katherine's skin.

Pushing her thoughts away from her sister-in-law, she turned her mind to Anne. She could understand why the other woman had thought it best to send this news via note instead of saying something in person, and Katherine was glad that she had. It gave her time to accept it. This had been the plan all along, of course, for Anne to give Henry the children that Katherine no longer could, but that didn't mean it wasn't still something Katherine struggled with. It was a comfort to know that Mary was still to be placed ahead of any daughters Anne might have – she wouldn't have wanted to see her daughter lowered in status – but the fact that another woman would be the mother of England's next Queen, even if Katherine truly liked the woman in question, was painful.

All of that made sense. What didn't make sense was the tiny part of her that would have preferred hearing this in person.

* * *

Mary frowned as she glanced at the clock. Her father had said he would play chess with her today. She'd been looking forward to it – she'd been playing with Lady Salisbury a lot so that she could get better at it. She knew she still wouldn't be good enough to beat him, but she hoped she could at least give him a good game now. But he hadn't come, even though he'd promised.

She walked over to her window and looked out, not really paying much attention to the view, until she saw them. Her father and… _that woman_, walking arm-in-arm in the garden. _No!_ Mary had just begun to hope that she was winning her father's attention away from whatever power Anne Boleyn had over him – and eventually, when he realized how much he didn't need a son when Mary was ready to do whatever she had to in order to be a good heir, he'd turn back to her mother as well. And now, just because she was pregnant, or so the servants were saying when they thought Mary couldn't hear, she had him back again. It wasn't fair!

She had to do something. Her mother wouldn't, that was clear. She just said that this was something they had to accept, and lived her life as though nothing had happened. She even tried to be friendly to Anne! Anyone else would be grateful that her lover's wife was taking things so well, but apparently Anne wouldn't be happy until she was the only one Mary's Papa cared about.

Well! Someone would have to make sure that Anne Boleyn knew that she couldn't do that, and since Aunt Margaret was gone, it would have to be Mary. She had tried to accept things, because she knew that was what her mother wanted, but she could not do it. Not when it meant that her father would forget about them both, thinking only of Anne and their children. Someone had to fight for Mary and her mother, and Mary was willing to do it.

* * *

Anne hadn't been back in her rooms for long when Kate told her that Princess Mary had come to see her. There was something in her companion's dark eyes that left Anne feeling a little worried about this visit. When Mary came in, she knew she was right to be worried. The girl's face was white, her eyes glittering with anger. Anne stiffened in her chair, wondering what this was all about.

"Why are you doing this?" the girl demanded without preamble, glaring at Anne. "Why do you want my Papa to only care about you?"

Anne opened her mouth to deny this but Mary didn't let her. "No! Ever since you arrived, Papa's been acting like Mama and I don't even exist, and it's all your fault! He loved us before you came, and now he doesn't care! I hate you!"

This really was going too far. When Mary paused to take a breath, Anne jumped in. "Listen to me, Princess. I'm certainly not trying to steal your father away – I would never even think of doing that! In fact, I told him to spend more time with you!"

"You're lying! Why would you do that? Why – " Mary was cut off by the sound of Anne's door opening and Henry's voice.

"Mary! What is the meaning of this?"

"Papa… I…" Mary trembled when she saw the furious look on her father's face.

"I don't want to hear it," he said with cold finality. "We'll discuss this later. Leave."

Mary opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her father snapped, "Now!" and she left, biting her lip so that she wouldn't cry. This wasn't what was supposed to happen.

"What did she say to you, sweetheart?" Henry said, his arm around Anne. "I can't believe she would behave like that, especially when I know she knows you're pregnant – Mary is young, but she knows upsetting a pregnant woman is a dangerous thing for the mother and the child."

"I don't think that she was thinking, Henry. I… She seemed to think that now that you have me, and the baby is on the way, that you'll forget about her – and about Katherine. I'm not sure which idea upsets her more, honestly." Anne tried to smile, and actually succeeded. "I hope that my children have the same loyalty to me, I have to say."

"She doesn't… That is, I…" Henry wanted to say that Mary couldn't be wrong – she was his daughter, and while his feelings for Katherine were not what they had been when he was little more than a boy, he still cared deeply for her. But he didn't want to admit any of that to Anne, in case it hurt her.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Henry."

He smiled at her, somehow certain that she knew what he'd been thinking. "Still, that doesn't excuse her," he said, growing angry again. "I'm going to have to have a long talk with that girl," he declared.

"I think someone needs to talk to her, yes, but I don't know if yelling at her is the best idea," Anne said quietly. "She's hurt, even if it's not reasonable. I remember…" She shook her head, smiling. "My sister Mary used to tell me about how hard it was, as the oldest, to see first George and then me come into the world, and for our parents to be distracted. She said that for a while, it seemed as though they wouldn't want her anymore. She also said that once she spent a little time with us, she grew to love us, and that made her realize that our parents loved us all. Mary's been an only child for a long time – I don't think she ever met your son, did she? – and she's bound to feel for a while as though the new baby will take her place in your heart, but that will fade. It's natural, and the fact is that our situation is not common, and that has to make it even more difficult to cope with."

"I still need to talk to her," Henry said with a shake of his head. "I promise I won't be too harsh, not if you're worried about it, but Mary needs to understand some things, and she needs to know that her behavior won't be tolerated."

"All right," Anne said, realizing she wasn't going to be able to change his mind. "But just remember what I said, and try not to be too angry when you talk with her."

* * *

"My daughter is pregnant," Boleyn said bluntly, taking a sip of his wine.

"Yes, I knew that – or did you think you were the only one who could buy a maid?" Norfolk asked with a smirk.

"No," Anne's father said coldly. "However, this does change matters somewhat. If the child's a boy, then Anne becomes Princess Consort and her position is secure. If not, she gets two extra years."

"Everyone knows that, Boleyn," Norfolk said scornfully, only his breeding keeping him from rolling his eyes like a cocky schoolboy. "What, exactly, is your point?"

"I've been taking a look over old records, and it seems that handmaids – and Princess Consorts – in England tend to have rather overlooked families. Often, their families saw little return until…"

"Until she became Queen."

"Exactly."

"But this is King Henry we're talking about – he showers his mistresses' families with honors; wouldn't he do much better for the family of his only legitimate male heir or heirs?"

"Yes, but with such precedents, wouldn't it be even better for us if Anne were Queen?"

"I'm sure she will be in time; Katherine may not be old, exactly, but she's not precisely young either; it's quite likely both Henry and Anne will outlive her." He paused. "But you're not that patient, are you?"

Boleyn shrugged and said nothing, taking another sip of his wine. Norfolk drank some of his own, before shaking his head.

"It's treason," Norfolk said bluntly.

"Only if it's discovered," Boleyn replied smoothly. "And if not… it's just good fortune for the family."

* * *

Katherine was startled when Mary burst into her rooms, her eyes glittering with unshed tears and her face white. She dismissed her ladies with a gesture before saying, "Mary, what is it?"

Mary bit her lip, not wanting to start crying now. She didn't want her mother to comfort her and then get angry when she found out how she'd disobeyed her. "I… I'm sorry, Mama, I really am, but I just couldn't take it anymore!"

Katherine had a sinking suspicion that she knew what Mary was talking about, but she had to be sure. "What are you talking about?"

"I… Lady Anne," Mary said quietly, bowing her head. "Papa was supposed to spend time with me today, and he forgot about it because he was with her! Can't you see, she's trying to take him away from us? I wanted her to know she can't do that, but Papa came in, and he was so angry with me…"

"Mary…" Katherine sighed. This could not go on. She'd tried to make Mary see things more sensibly without explaining the situation, but it seemed that her daughter was more like her aunt Margaret than Katherine had guessed. It made things more complicated than she had thought they'd be. With Mary so determined to hate Anne, there really was only one thing to do.

She crossed to the door and opened it to see the maid who always waited outside, even when Katherine dismissed her women. "Send a message to the Lady Anne," she ordered. "I would like her to come here as soon as possible."

She turned back to see her daughter's puzzled face. "It's time you understood what is really going on here, Mary."

A/N: I know some of you are screaming at Mary right now; relax and hold your anger, people! The kid is twelve, and if you ask me, this had to happen. Next chapter: reality checks for several people.


	14. Revelations

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 13 – Revelations:**_ Henry had only just left when Katherine's maid knocked on the door. Anne was grateful that the timing had worked out so well. She knew what it was Katherine wanted to speak with her about – the chances of Mary going anywhere but to her beloved mother after the scene with Henry were slim to none. The question was, why did Katherine want to talk to Anne now? Mary was probably still there, so…

_Oh, no. _No, Katherine couldn't possibly… Anne only just managed to hold back the groan and instead smiled at the maid. "I'll be there as soon as possible," she said, her voice as pleasant as she could make it. The girl bobbed a curtsey and left. Anne sank into a chair and rubbed her temples, trying to ward off her brewing headache. But she had said she would go to see Katherine soon, so she stood and left her room, hoping all the way that she was wrong.

She wasn't. When she entered Katherine's presence chamber, she saw that the only two people there were Katherine and Mary. Several phrases ran through her mind, mostly things she remembered hearing sailors say during her times onboard ship, which made all of them horribly inappropriate to say aloud. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything to say that was fitting, which left her at somewhat of a disadvantage.

"Hello, Anne," Katherine said. "I wanted you to come because it's time Mary understood what's really going on here, and I thought it best if you were here as well."

_Have you lost your mind? She's twelve!_ Anne thought wildly, but she only nodded. "Very well, though I believe you should start, Katherine. This was, after all, your idea." And that last comment had multiple meanings, and the handmaid saw that the Queen caught that as well. Katherine's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing about it.

"Mama, what's going on?" Mary said, her expression utterly bewildered. Anne felt a flash or sympathy for the girl, though now that she thought about it, if nothing else, things should be easier with Mary in on the secret. Assuming she didn't tell anyone, of course. Especially Henry… that would not be good for any of them.

"Mary, I told you before that we had to accept Lady Anne in our lives, but what I didn't tell you was that she became your father's handmaid at my request."

"What?" Mary exclaimed.

_Request is one way to put it_, Anne thought. _All things considered, what choice did I really have?_ But again, she knew better than to say that. "It's true, Princess," she said quietly.

"But why?" Mary asked, looking more lost than ever. Katherine put an arm around her daughter's shoulders, and Anne felt her throat tighten. She'd not had her mother long enough to have a close bond with her, and her relationship with her father was hardly that of a parent and child. She could only hope to have a similar closeness with her children, but that would be something.

"Your father could have chosen a different woman as handmaid, someone who would truly be an enemy to us, and that would be a dangerous situation," Katherine told her daughter, choosing not to mention the other possibility, that Henry would have sought an annulment. She wanted Mary to understand why Anne was Henry's handmaid, not give her daughter a reason to simply transfer her anger to Henry.

"Because if something happens to the Queen the handmaid takes her place?" Mary said, remembering what she'd read about handmaids after learning that her father was to take one.

"Yes," Katherine said with a nod. "I trusted Lady Anne, and so I asked her to…"

"She wanted me to give your father a reason to choose me," Anne took over, seeing that Katherine wasn't entirely sure how to articulate the fact that she'd told another woman to seduce her husband, her child's father. "So I agreed, and that's what I did."

"But that means you're tricking him!" Mary said, suddenly indignant. "He loves you, and you're only pretending."

Anne's breath caught in her throat when Mary glared at her with Katherine's eyes set in a face that was a mixture of both her parents' features. But Mary was clearly more her mother's daughter than Henry's, and Anne found she could not lie to the girl now that she saw that so very clearly. "I… I do care for your father, Mary, I'm not just acting. But I promise, I would never try to take your mother's place, and I wouldn't want my children to take your father away from you."

"I…" Mary paused to take a breath, then continued. "Can I leave now?" she asked. "I think I need to think about all of this."

"Of course, Mary," Katherine said. Mary nodded and curtsied as though this were a formal occasion before heading for the door. At the last second she turned back.

"Lady Anne, I… I'm sorry," she said quickly before fleeing.

_Well_, Anne thought, _that's a start._

* * *

"Thank you, John," George said absently, handing the man a sovereign before turning away, his mind already focused on what he'd just learned. It had taken some time and trouble to turn his father's manservant into a spy, but it was now paying off. He had thought that it would eventually, but not this quickly. But then, Anne's pregnancy had changed things. He should have anticipated that.

Well, it was still early enough that he had a chance to stop this. His father and uncle were only considering the idea of harming the Queen. They probably wouldn't do anything until Anne was delivered – after all, if the child was a girl, it might not do them any good. Henry could dismiss Anne as handmaid, keeping their child, and make a new marriage that would seal a political alliance if Katherine died before Anne gave Henry a son. But he didn't want to bet on that – the stakes were too high for him to be wrong. Best to act as though he was certain the other two men would decide on a plan and act immediately.

He could tell Anne, of course. She would tell the King, which would certainly put a stop to things. But what good would that do? It would only ruin their entire family and possibly Anne as well. If Anne wasn't disgraced, he'd likely be all right as well, because Anne would speak for him, pointing out that he was the reason she knew what was going to happen, but it was too risky to assume Anne could get out of this unscathed. But if he didn't say anything, and something happened to Katherine… Anne would kill him.

So, that simply meant he would have to handle this himself. After all, there hadn't been any actual treason committed yet – there wasn't even a definite plan! So he wasn't duty-bound to report it just yet. He had a small window of opportunity before concealing this made him equally culpable, and he intended to take full advantage of it to stop this before it went any further.

The problem would be explaining to his father how he knew what was going on when he wasn't supposed to. It would not go well for him if Thomas Boleyn learned that his son was spying on him – never mind the fact that he was spying on his daughter. He'd told Anne about that one, and she was watching what was said around the maids their father and uncle had bought. Both of them understood that it was imperative that they keep some secrets for themselves.

So, how was he to do this? George didn't know just yet. He had some time to plan, though, and he was going to use it. All he had to do was curtail his father's ambitious nature all without arousing his suspicions, convincing the older man that it was best to be patient, as that would always pay off better than daring moves, especially in this situation. _Oh yes, that's all_, he thought ruefully. _I think I need a drink._

* * *

Mary walked into the courtyard, knowing her feet were a little unsteady. Her mind was spinning as she sat on a bench, trying to get her mind around what she'd just been told. It couldn't be, it simply couldn't. It just made absolutely no sense.

Except that it did. Deep down, Mary understood that what had happened was the sort of thing that, in some ways, happened all the time. One thing she'd begun to notice about history was that people who wanted to secure their power base always did things that were a little, well, underhanded to do so. As much as it hurt to know that her mother had to resort to such things with her father, it also made a terrible kind of sense. But why Lady Anne?

Well, she had an answer to that one as well. Her mother would only have asked a lady she truly trusted to do something like this, so she must believe that Lady Anne was loyal to her. But what if she was wrong? If she was, Anne was in the perfect position to destroy Mary's mother, and Mary herself if she so chose.

_"But I promise, I would never try to take your mother's place, and I wouldn't want my children to take your father away from you." _

There had been something odd in Lady Anne's eyes when Mary had accused her of just pretending to care for Mary's father, something distant, as though she was seeing someone else there instead of Mary. And there had been a strong ring of truth in her promise that she would never try to supplant Mary's mother, or let her children take Mary's place in her father's heart. As much as part of Mary wanted to cling to her hate and believe that Lady Anne was nothing more than a very good actress, she could not. She believed her, even though she didn't want to. Even if it meant she had to believe that her father had ignored her either because he wanted to or because he was easily distracted.

It hurt to think that her father was either that cruel or that thoughtless, but what other explanation was there? If it wasn't the Lady Anne's influence, it had to come from her beloved Papa. Mary bit her lip so that she wouldn't cry – she refused to lose control of her emotions in a place where someone might happen upon her. She was a princess born and raised, and she knew better.

"Your Highness?" Kate spoke cautiously, because it was clear that the younger girl was in the grips of some painful emotion. Mary looked up, and her eyes were overbright. She wasn't crying, but it was clear that if she were anything but a princess trained to be in control of herself, she would be.

"Hello, Mistress Kate."

"Is everything all right?"

"Of course it…" Mary's voice cracked and she realized she couldn't lie. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, it's not." She just kept shaking her head.

Kate sat down next to her, and after a moment's hesitation, she put a hand on Mary's shoulder as if she were her younger sister and she was trying to comfort her. "What is it? I swear I won't tell anyone."

Her mother had said she shouldn't say anything, but… She trusted Lady Anne, and Mary trusted Mistress Kate. It was the same thing, wasn't it? Even if it wasn't, she couldn't keep all this inside, she simply couldn't. The story came pouring out of her, and when she was done, she felt a little better.

Kate was stunned, to say the least. While her heart broke for Mary, who was now forced to face the fact that her father was wholly responsible for his treatment of his child and his wife, most of her mind was caught up in the larger revelation. This entire situation had been orchestrated by the Queen, with Lady Anne as a willing partner? Suddenly, all kinds of little things, like that conversation at the joust or the slight frown she'd seen on the Queen's face when talking with Princess Margaret a few weeks ago, began to make sense.

But she couldn't think over the implications right now; she knew that the princess was waiting for her to say something. But what, exactly, should she say? How did one comfort a girl whose entire world had been turned upside down – again?

"Isn't it a little better this way, Your Highness?" she finally asked tentatively.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know that Lady Anne is on your side, yours and your mother's. That means you don't have to worry about her trying to hurt you. And your father… I think it's just because his relationship with Lady Anne is new that he's so caught up with her. And men… they always get excited when a new baby's on the way. Sometimes they forget about the children they already have for a while because of it, but it never lasts. I'm an older sister, I know these things. And trust me, it's worth it when you first meet your little brother or sister."

"Do you like having younger siblings?" Mary wanted to know.

"Yes, I do, actually. They can annoy me at times, but I like being there for them, being someone they know they can trust. It's a big responsibility, but the rewards are even greater. Trust me."

Mary frowned, looking away. Then she looked up at Kate, her eyes hopeful. "Is it really going to get better?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know the future, Your Highness, so I can only guess, but I think so. I really do."

Mary sighed. "I hope you're right."

* * *

Anne toyed with the empty wineglass Katherine's maid had given her, having already finished her wine. They'd been talking of trivial things, events at court, that sort of thing. But then Anne said, "I hope you made the right decision."

Katherine raised an eyebrow. "With Mary, you mean?"

_No, with the wine vintage._ "Yes, with Mary. I mean, she's rather young, and…"

"She knows how to keep quiet, and I really didn't see any other choice. She was determined to hate you, and while I imagine you could have handled that, Henry wouldn't have."

"No, that's true."

"I didn't think I'd _need_ to tell her, but apparently Mary was more influenced by Margaret than I had expected her to be."

"Ah, yes, Margaret. I don't suppose she actually has a reason for hating me, does she? I know I've never done anything to her."

"I think she considers your background to be an insult of some kind, actually."

Anne scowled. "Of course, it would be something I can't control." She fell silent after that last comment, and Katherine didn't say anything else either, so the silence lasted, not tense exactly, but not quite companionable either. Finally, Anne said abruptly, "You know, I would have spoken to Henry about Mary even if you hadn't mentioned what he was doing."

Katherine frowned. "Where is this coming from?"

"I was just thinking about it. I would never want to see a man ignoring his daughter for my sake. I already know what…" Oh, she hadn't meant to say that. Perhaps the wine had loosened her tongue? At least it hadn't loosened her grip on her emotions – the way she was going,_ that_ would have been an unqualified disaster. "Never mind," she finished hastily.

"Anne, what were you going to say?" Katherine asked, her tone making it clear that she wouldn't let the other woman get away with avoiding the question. Anne sighed – why had she let that last comment slip?

"I was going to say that I know what it's like for your father to suddenly seem to stop caring. Mary's lucky – Henry's distracted, but he does love her, I'm sure of that. Sometimes they actually do care less than they once did, especially if their children are somehow useful. One would not want to let feelings get in the way of advancement, after all." She smiled bitterly. "It's really quite a practical mindset."

"Anne…" Katherine trailed off. What exactly should she say to something like this? She could think of quite a few things to say – unfortunately all of those were things she could say to Thomas Boleyn given the opportunity.

Anne shook her head. "There's nothing to say, is there? But you know, that's why… I didn't lie to Mary. I have come to care for Henry. I can't love him – he's too fickle for that – but I do care, because I wasn't acting with him. I didn't pretend to be something I wasn't when I was seducing him, which means it was _me_ he was attracted to, as I am. That's something fairly uncommon for me, I have to say. I'm not sure if I should thank you for that, or if I should apologize for taking things further than you intended me to."

Anne didn't know why she just got up and left after that, but she did. There wasn't anything else to say, and she didn't think she wanted to hear what Katherine might say in reply. However, she did think of one other thing to say as she opened the door, so she said it, though she did not turn around when she did so. "I'm sorry to be telling you all of this, but there's an interesting thing about trust, you see. You can trust me, and I feel that I can trust you in return. But I don't mean to cause you any trouble, so if you would rather I did not see things this way, please tell me."

Katherine was actually stunned into silence. That wasn't something that happened to her often. Yes, she often held her tongue because it was the smartest move at the moment, but rarely did she keep silent because she could think of nothing to say at all. Anne had a habit of being brutally honest – it was something she'd noticed on more than one occasion – but she had never expected this candor.

Part of her was glad that the other woman trusted her that much, as it made their relationship a little more equal. Another part was upset over Anne's feelings for Henry, even if they were understandable, and that was the same part that was jealous of Anne for having Henry's love, even if that had been the plan. And then there was the voice in the back of her mind that wished she could do something rather unpleasant to Boleyn for what he'd apparently done to all of his children… and there was another part that wished she could somehow make the pain of such coldness go away, but that made even less sense than the rest of her tangled thoughts.

A/N: Um… I'm not entirely sure why Anne's thoughts were so snarky in this one… I blame the headache and the first of the pregnancy hormones – or maybe just my muse. Don't worry, Anne and Katherine aren't at odds again, this is just set-up material. As to Mary and Kate, what better way for them to bond than for Kate to take a sort of elder sister role? Hope you liked George's scheming – I'm really liking Boleyn siblings plotting; it's featuring in The Falcon and the Mare as well.


	15. Ponderings

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 14 – Ponderings:**_ George had the worst headache of his life. He'd spent hours looking over historical records, tracking the various royal handmaids and their families. He was looking for some strong proof to show his father, to convince him that moving against Katherine would be a very bad idea. He had some good points already – there were several precedents where families of handmaids had tried to kill the Queen and had been convicted of treason for it. Once or twice the handmaids even turned their relatives in.

There was also the fact that they didn't know if Anne's unborn child was a boy or a girl. While George, knowing his father, suspected that the older man was certain it would be a boy, there really was no way to know. And if the child was a girl and Katherine was dead… Henry would be free to toss Anne aside and make a new marriage, which wouldn't do the Boleyn family any good at all. True, they would be the relatives of a royal daughter, but that wouldn't be worth much. They might – _might_ – get an estate or two out of it, just so the King could bolster his daughter's position and say she didn't come from a lowborn family, but he knew his father would not be happy with that. There were times George thought his father would try for the throne if he thought he could get it, but since Thomas Boleyn was a practical man as well as an ambitious one, he was content to have his grandson sitting on that throne.

George just had to get his father's practical side to take precedence over the ambitious side, to point out that targeting the Queen was a very bad idea, for more reasons than one. He even had the idea that he could bring up the possibility of Anne turning them in if they did something, but he wasn't sure how to do that. Their father believed Anne was past her "childish loyalty" as he'd put it, and George felt it would be a very unwise move to disabuse him of that notion. But there had to be some way he could put it that wouldn't make his father suspicious. He just hadn't figured out what that was yet.

* * *

Henry studied his young daughter as she stood in front of him, looking properly contrite. "I'm sorry, Papa. I talked to Lady Anne and I'm starting to realize that I misunderstood her very badly. I'll try to do better in the future."

"Very well, Mary," Henry said. "But that does not completely excuse your behavior. You need to learn not to lose your temper so easily, especially when it means you end up yelling at someone who hasn't earned it. I don't want to ever see you acting that way again, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Well then. You can go, I have work to do, but tomorrow I'm afraid your tutor will have the day off, because you and I will be spending the day riding."

"Thank you, Papa!" Mary said with a bright grin, before she curtsied and left. She told herself that she hadn't lied to her father – technically she _had_ spoken to Lady Anne. Just because she didn't say that her mother had been there as well didn't mean she wasn't telling the truth, or at least she was pretty sure it didn't. She hoped not, because she didn't think it would be a good idea to confess to the priest that she'd lied to her father – part of her penance would likely be to tell her father the truth, and that would be… a problem. She wondered what her mother or Lady Anne did in confession, when they had such secrets to keep. It couldn't be easy.

But at least she had been able to share what she'd learned. Mary now thought that if she hadn't had the chance to talk to Mistress Kate when she had, she might well have just told the first person she saw what she'd learned a few days before in her mother's rooms. It had just been too much for her to take in at the time. Now she'd had a chance to think about it, and she thought she'd actually come to terms with it.

It really did seem to be the best way out of a bad situation, even if it wasn't easy. The right thing often wasn't, Mary knew that. While she still felt that she could be a good heir if her father was only willing to see it, deep down she knew that he wouldn't. It didn't mean that he loved her less, just that he thought a boy would be a better ruler than a girl. There wasn't anything she could do about that, so she told herself not to even think about it too much. Since her father wanted a son, he would have one, and taking a handmaid was the easiest way for him to do that. Mary was aware that there were other ways, but her father had no reason to try those, which was good. And if he had to have a handmaid… Better that it be someone who wouldn't be an enemy to Mary's mother.

Things were not perfect, and they never would be. But they were better than they could be, and that was something. And there was something else too. Kate had said it was nice to be an older sibling, and that comment had not left Mary's head since. She kept imagining herself playing with a little child with dark hair and her father's warm brown eyes. Sometimes she saw a little boy, and other times she saw a little girl. But she was always playing with the child, and she was having fun doing it. It wasn't something she'd ever spent much time thinking about, even when her mother had been pregnant. But now that she was thinking about it, she found that it was hard to stop.

She thought that she liked the idea of being an older sister.

* * *

"Charles, what is it you want to speak to me about? I can tell there's something," Henry said, looking up from the papers he was reading and giving his oldest friend a sharp look.

"Actually, there is, Your Majesty. You remember that a few months ago, you gave Margaret and I the wardship of Catherine Brooke?"

"Yes, what of it? She's not a problem, is she? The girl's only thirteen, I'm sure you can handle her."

"No, she's very well-behaved, very polite. She and Margaret get on quite well. Actually, we were wondering if…"

"What, Charles?"

"Well, she's only a year older than the Princess Mary, and it seemed like a good idea for Catherine to join the princess in the schoolroom. Her mother was one of the Queen's Spanish ladies, so they would have that in common, and since Princess Mary currently has no companions…"

Henry considered the idea. As the ward of his sister and the Duke of Suffolk, Catherine Brooke was certainly a logical candidate to be a companion to Mary. He remembered his own schoolroom days, as part of a group of boys. He'd never thought much about it, but it occurred to him now that Mary's lessons must be lonely, with no other children there. And perhaps regular interaction with another child would make it easier for her when she was no longer an only child.

He nodded, finally. "I don't see any reason why she should not become Mary's schoolmate. At any rate, children learn best when they've got someone to compete with." He himself recalled how he'd been driven in his own studies by the desire to eclipse his elder brother. Mary was intelligent and academically skilled already; with extra incentive, he was sure that his daughter would do even better. It would be good for her, in more ways than one.

* * *

Anne Boleyn was a reformer, or at least, she had some interest in the subject. That was one of the rumors Thomas Cromwell had heard, and he wondered if it was true. Because if it was… This could be a golden opportunity. Lady Anne had the King's ear, as all of his lovers did for a short time, and if her unborn child was a boy… Her influence would be very strong. Almost insurmountable.

If she was a believer in the true faith, this could be a very good thing. And yet, Cromwell wasn't sure that the rumors were true. He'd also heard other ones, which suggested that she got on well with Queen Katherine. As a Spaniard, the Queen was devoutly Catholic, so if that rumor was true… It could just mean that the Lady was discreet, and knew better than to bring up religion, or it could mean that, while she may have had a passing interest in reform, it was not a cause she would be willing to help.

He needed more time to observe, more time to figure out what the best course of action would be. For right now, making plans was premature. Even if Lady Anne was inclined towards reform, it might not be enough. The King was still a loyal Catholic, and with people like the Queen, Wolsey, and More around him, that would be difficult to change. It might even be best to hold off until Lady Anne became Queen – assuming that she bore a son and Katherine predeceased her. By then, things could be very different, and the situation more appropriate to encourage change.

But no matter what he chose to do, he needed more information. So he would watch, and he would listen, and find out what he could. And he would try to increase his own influence, if possible. He was well-placed as the King's secretary to do all of this, and one thing Cromwell had always known how to do was take advantage of such opportunities. That was how he'd gotten this far, wasn't it?

A/N: I'm thinking that the next chapter might be a Christmas chapter, but I'm not sure yet. That doesn't mean it won't be out until Christmas, but with finals coming up I should probably concentrate on those.


	16. Revels

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 15 – Revels: **_The unseasonably warm weather in October had not signaled a warm winter, and in the first week of December, there was already a thick layer of snow on the ground, and all of the ponds and lakes were iced over. Kate had never ice skated in her life, but a large group of the younger people of the court had decided to participate, while the older ones either joined in or milled around the area, watching and talking. So she strapped the unfamiliar pieces of metal to her feet and struggled to stand, but she wobbled and nearly fell. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her and she tilted her head up to look into Hal Howard's smiling face.

"Be careful, Mistress Kate," he said cheerfully. "Have you ever done this before?"

"No," she admitted, a blush staining her cheeks.

He nodded. "Very well, then as a gentleman it is my duty to help you. Come on," he said, taking her hand and gently leading her to the ice, his other hand resting on the small of her back so that she wouldn't fall. Kate's head spun from his touch and she thought it a miracle that her knees did not buckle. He led her onto the ice and moved away a little, enough that they could both skate without bumping into each other, and then he murmured directions in her ear. "One foot forward, then the other, slowly. You have to find a rhythm."

His breath tickled her ear, and she shivered, but not from the cold. But she focused her mind on his guidance, so that she didn't do anything that she would soon regret. If she allowed herself to think too long on his presence beside her, she knew she would do something inadvisable. So she forced her mind to the task at hand, learning to skate so that she wouldn't fall and do herself – or someone else – an injury. Soon, though, she found herself falling into a pattern, and she didn't even notice at first when Hal moved away so that he was only holding her hand. When she did, she wobbled for a moment, but took a deep breath and steadied herself, managing to keep pace with him as they skated in circles around the pond.

* * *

Anne watched her cousin and companion with amusement. They really were a well-matched couple, provided that her uncle didn't start causing trouble for them. He wasn't here at the moment, which was only for the better, as far as Kate and Hal were concerned. They didn't need any trouble just yet; Anne knew from her flirtations with Henry Percy and Thomas Wyatt that the early days of young romance were heady and fun, something to be savored. Though her feelings toward those two young men had faded, she remembered them fondly, and was glad she'd had that time with them. If nothing else, it had proved to her that a girl could have a little more than empty flirtation without sex, which her sister Mary had always said was impossible.

She would have liked to be skating, and initially she had planned to. She was only two months along, and she remembered Mary telling her that the midwife she'd consulted during her own pregnancy had said exercise was good in the first few months of pregnancy. But Henry had disagreed. It was too risky when she was carrying a child, he said; one bad fall could lead to disaster.

So she watched, as did Katherine. Anne was seated to Henry's right while Katherine was on his left, but Henry's chair was empty. He was skating, to no one's surprise. What was, perhaps, a little surprising, if good to see, was that he was with his daughter, shortening his strokes to keep pace with her shorter legs. They appeared to be deep in conversation as well, and Anne was glad to see that the most recent conflict had been patched up.

Glancing around, she saw her father and George in an intense discussion – of what, she wasn't sure, though she'd seen them both glance her way. Or were they looking at Katherine? From this angle, she wasn't sure, but it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. What was going on? And why hadn't George told her if something was? She told herself that it was nothing to worry about, that George hadn't said anything because he had it well in hand. That was one of the benefits to telling him – though she still hadn't admitted to Katherine that she had done so. She didn't know how the other woman would react, and decided she didn't want to find out. But she would be speaking to George later, to find out just what was going on.

* * *

Mary was ecstatic. Her father was spending time with her, just like he said he would.

"So, Mary, how are your lessons coming along?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Very well, Papa. I especially enjoy Latin and music," she told him.

"That's my pearl," he said with a grin. "I always liked studying languages myself, and you know how much I enjoy music."

"Did you like languages?" Mary asked, thrilled to have learned that she had this in common with her father, along with the music, which she'd already known about. His answering nod made her smile widely, glad to be able to share something else with him.

"You're going to have a friend in the schoolroom," he told her. "Your aunt and uncle have a young ward, Catherine Brooke, and I've given them permission to have her study with you. I always enjoyed having other children in the schoolroom with me, so I thought you would as well."

Mary nodded. Honestly, she wasn't sure how she felt about sharing her lessons – she'd spent so little time around children of her own age that she wasn't exactly sure how to act with them – but if her Papa thought it was a good idea, then she would be happy with it. "I'm glad, Papa," she said brightly.

"Good." He tilted his head at her consideringly. "Would you like to go faster?"

"I can't, Papa, I don't know how – " She was cut off when he pulled her in front of him, and began skating much faster, pushing her ahead of him even as he held on so she wouldn't fall. For a moment Mary was absolutely terrified, but then she realized that it felt like she was flying, and suddenly the scream she had swallowed bubbled up again as delighted laughter. This was amazing.

They stopped and that was when Mary realized that her father was laughing too, at what he'd done and at the shocked reactions of the courtiers. She glanced toward her mother and saw that her face was half upset and half happy, clearly torn between not liking the dangerous stunt and being glad that Mary's father was playing with her again. On the other side of her father's empty chair, Mary noticed that the Lady Anne's eyes were dancing with amusement.

She looked away from them at the sound of two shocked yelps, to see Mistress Kate sprawled on the ice with the Earl of Surrey half on top of each other. Clearly, they'd slipped, but for some reason they hadn't gotten up yet. They were simply staring at each other, their faces inches apart. Mary frowned. There was something there, something she didn't fully understand yet, but she recognized it, a little. It was something like how her father looked at Lady Anne. And… She didn't know where else she'd seen it, probably with other courtiers. Still, she thought it probably wasn't any of her business, as Lord Hal got up quickly and offered Kate a hand up.

"Your friend is a little clumsy," her father said, amused.

"She's new here," Mary explained. "They don't ice skate at her home, she told me."

"Ah," he said. "Well, let's show her – and everyone else, they're clumsy as well – just how it's done." And with that they skated off again.

* * *

George knew it was risky, going up to his father and saying, in an undertone "I saw your manservant at an apothecary of ill repute. Father, what's going on?" but it was a surefire way to make his father order him to his room later, so that this discussion could continue in private. That was exactly what George had wanted, because he didn't want anyone – including Anne – to suspect. That, of course, was almost inevitable; he'd seen his sister watching them during the ice skating earlier. But he was relatively sure he could convince Anne that it was nothing – once he convinced his father to _make_ it nothing.

He stood before his father, waiting for the other man to speak. Thomas Boleyn's eyes – the same shade of blue as his younger daughter's, but far colder than Anne's could ever be – sized up his son, and George almost broke under that gaze, as he would have years ago. But no, not now, not anymore. He was a grown man, and his father's current path would only bring them all to disaster.

"What makes you think you can question me?" his father demanded.

"Well, as I've got a theory on what you're trying to do, I can question you because you're going to destroy us," George shot back bluntly.

_"What?" _

"You sent your man to a _poisoner_, Father, and Anne is pregnant. It doesn't take much to guess from there. You want the Queen out of the way so that Anne becomes Queen instead of Princess Consort once she bears a son."

"And if I do? That can only be good for us all."

"What if the child is a girl? Don't you see what would happen? The King would put Anne aside, keep their child, and marry some other foreigner in order to make a new treaty. We might get a few manors, as relatives of a princess, but no more than that. That's not even the worst outcome – what if it's found out our family was responsible for the Queen's death? That's treason. Handmaids' families have been taken up for it before, even if the handmaid herself has already been crowned."

"We would have no trouble, because if Anne is Queen, we would be safe. She would speak for us."

George laughed scornfully. "Do you actually believe she wouldn't turn us all in?"

"Why would she? Clearly she's lost that ridiculous loyalty to the Spaniard."

"True," George said, lying through his teeth, "but Anne's no fool, and she's your daughter. She'd throw us all to the wolves to make sure her own position was secure." That was just as much of a lie than what he'd said before, but it was believable, and safer than the truth. Besides, George took a certain perverse pleasure in seeing his father squirm, thinking that in teaching his children to be as ruthless as he was, he'd made potential enemies of them.

"And what better stratagem do you have?" the older man said contemptuously, but George recognized the question for what it was – a sign that his father was seeing reason.

"We wait," he said simply. "Even if this first child is a girl, boys are likely to follow – you and Mother had Mary before I came along, and the King's York grandparents had several daughters before any sons were born. Anne's position will be secure within the next few years, I am sure, and the chances of her predeceasing Katherine are slim. We just have to be patient, and we will see Anne as Queen, and her son as the future King."

Thomas studied his son thoughtfully. He had been worried that the boy was getting squeamish, which would have been annoyingly inconvenient. But it seemed that George was just very cautious, and… He was also right. Thomas did not want to admit that his son was being more sensible than he was, but it was the truth. He had allowed the favor that came with Anne's new position to go to his head, and he was fortunate that George had not reacted the same way.

If the child was a girl, and he had pressed forward with his plan, they could have lost everything. So he would wait, to see what sex his grandchild was, and decide from there. He still thought it might be better to get rid of Katherine than to wait for her to die, but it would be foolish to act before he knew how the land lay.

"Father?" George said cautiously. He didn't like how long the other man had been silent.

"Once Anne is delivered, we will revisit this issue, but until then, nothing will be done," Thomas said, and George just managed to swallow a sigh of relief. He had earned a reprieve, and it meant he had more time to come up with a way to thwart his father in a more permanent way. The thought that he might have to tell Anne and let her tell Henry occurred to him, but he hoped to avoid that eventuality, which was almost as risky as letting his father carry out his murderous plan.

There had to be another way, one that would ensure his father never tried to kill the Queen, that he would be willing to wait. George just hadn't worked it out yet.

* * *

The Christmas revels began, and Anne was distracted from her worries over what was going on with her family. This was her first Christmas as someone who was, technically, a member of the royal family, even if her place there was not yet permanent. It was, in a sense, a situation not unlike the one created by Margaret's antipathy toward her. If her place was not acknowledged as rightful, then any children she had would be questioned. At that thought, her hand fell to her stomach, already finding the thought that this child's legitimacy would be questioned to be painful.

Kate, who had been helping Anne fix a garland to her hair, gave her a worried look in the mirror. "Is everything all right, Lady Anne?"

"I'm just a little nervous, Kate. This is the first formal occasion I'll be attending as handmaid, after all."

It was hard to imagine her poised mistress as being nervous, Kate thought. "Well," she said at last, "no one would ever suspect it by looking at you. You look beautiful."

Anne smiled at the girl, studying her reflection. She was wearing a deep emerald green gown. Her hair was loose except for the holly garland resting on the top of her head, falling halfway down her back. She was determined to look her best tonight, because she knew that it would be important. It was difficult for the courtiers to understand the handmaid concept, and they lived with protocol that changed at the monarch's whim. But the common people… They had never seen her in this role, though some of them had certainly glimpsed her riding with Henry during their courtship. She was going to have to play her part to the hilt, because her behavior would likely cement the idea of what a handmaid was in the minds of the commoners allowed to observe from a distance. She could not risk failure.

The Mass was the easiest part. She and Katherine were on either side of Henry, with Mary on Katherine's other side, all of them in the front pew. It was exactly the same way they always attended Mass if they were doing so together; there was simply more pomp because it was Christmas. The gift-giving ceremony was the same boring, pretentious tradition it had been in the two years during which she'd watched as one of the courtiers. It was a chance for the nobles to show off their wealth and try to impress their sovereign. The only part of it that kept Anne smiling politely was seeing the courtiers squirm over who was getting which gifts from the King, and over the King's reaction to their gifts. While Anne fully understood securing royal favor – more than most – there was some part of her that said it was all ridiculous. And that part found the courtiers' nerves to be amusing.

Anne knew that any gifts she had been given were tailored to make the giver look good in Henry's eyes, so while she did remember what they were, she disregarded them. She was more interested in the private gifts. She had received none from her relatives – save George and Mary – and had expected none; her father and uncle had not missed the opportunity to give her something in full view of everyone, so as to properly impress Henry. George had given her a pearl necklace with a gold 'B' pendant, while Mary had given her a journal bound in gold-tooled red leather. Her sister's gift was a comment on Anne's old habit, when they'd lived in France, of keeping a diary. She'd fallen out of the habit in the past few years, but she appreciated the gesture. It showed that Mary recalled her former habits. And George's gift was typical; something pretty that she would like, but also a reminder to her of family loyalty. Anne's gifts to them had been simple; she'd sent Mary fabric for clothing, along with some toys for her nephew, and George had received a new dagger – he'd been muttering about the age of his, so old that even a good whetstone could not fully restore its edge.

She was wearing George's gift and Mary's was safe in her quarters. Perhaps someday she would make use of the journal. But her other gifts, both given and received, were not ignored. One of them – toys for young Edward Brandon – had been carefully selected as a peace offering to the still-hostile Margaret and her husband. Since the Princess was not here, Anne had no idea how the gift had been received. Brandon had thanked her politely, giving no hint of whether or not he actually appreciated it or not. She imagined that he knew exactly why she'd done it, though. She could have sworn she saw a hint of wry humor in his eyes when he'd been thanking her, and she couldn't help but understand; Margaret was unlikely to be won over by trinkets for her son. But it was something she could try, at least.

Kate had been the easiest, when it came to the personal gifts Anne had given. She'd given the younger girl several books – one of them, on Katherine's suggestion, had been More's _Utopia_; apparently Katherine had given a copy to Mary and shared reading for two young, scholarly girls was always a way to further encourage their friendship. In return, Kate gave her several small garments for the coming baby. Anne didn't know what else Katherine might have given her daughter, but she knew that Henry had given Mary a small ruby pendant carved into a Tudor rose and set in gold, as well as a new saddle for her horse – Mary had been accompanying him on rides quite often of late. Anne herself had sent the girl ruby drop earrings to match the necklace her father had given her. Mary had sent Henry a black velvet doublet embroidered with an intricate vine pattern, while Katherine had received a needlework hanging of the Tudor rose quartered with a pomegranate. Anne was a little startled when she got a cushion embroidered with her own falcon symbol, because she knew that all of the embroidery on the various gifts was Mary's own. It was a personal gift, and Anne was flattered and pleased by the sign that Mary was softening toward her.

Henry had given Anne an elaborate pearl necklace and pearl drop earrings to match. She had chosen to wear the earrings tonight, as they went just as well with the necklace George had gotten her. She'd also gotten fabrics, a comment on her love of fashion. She knew he'd given Katherine a sapphire collar very like one she'd once been given in her first days as Princess of Wales. He'd also sent for the three Spanish ladies that Cardinal Wolsey had summarily dismissed, and Anne had noticed that Katherine was happier about that than she was about the jewelry. Katherine had given Henry an elaborately wrought gold cup and a fine tapestry, while Anne gave him boar spears and leather arm guards, hoping to encourage more riding and hunting, since he took Mary with him on such trips increasingly often.

Anne received a silver locket from Katherine. There were no pictures inside, but Katherine had suggested that she would likely want a miniature of her child to be placed inside once the baby was born – apparently she had one with Mary's portrait inside. For Katherine, Anne had deliberated for a long time, before help had come in the form of an old friend from her time in the Netherlands. Juliana di Riniari was the daughter of a high-ranking Venetian who had been sent to the Netherlands for schooling, becoming the Boleyn girls' partner-in-crime in all sorts of mischief. She had never lost that wild side, running off with a struggling painter. Currently the couple was in England while Juliana's husband, Vittorio, painted landscapes, and she was staying with Mary. Anne had written a letter in desperation, claiming that the reason she wanted to make sure she had a good gift for Katherine because she was grateful that the other woman had accepted her so easily. She could not tell Juliana the truth without telling Mary, and she was not quite willing to risk it. But her old friend came through, because apparently they'd been in Spain before England, and Vittorio had taken the opportunity to paint while there, including the portrait Juliana sent her, a beautiful rendition of Valladolid, the current capital. So Anne gave that to Katherine, knowing that if part of _her_ would never stop missing France, Katherine's feelings about Spain must be even stronger. And from the look in the other woman's eyes as she studied the painting, Anne was sure she'd made a good choice.

* * *

The festivities were in full swing, with the food tables cleared away to make room for the dancers. The King dove right in, as expected. Henry was never one to sit out a celebration. The two women in his life, however, were doing just that, one out of habit and the other out of caution.

Katherine glanced over at Anne, noting that the other woman's lips were pressed tightly together and that she looked a little peaky. "Are you all right?" Anne looked over, startled.

"What? Oh, yes, mostly. I'm just wondering if the person who came up with the name morning sickness is alive and if so whether or not I'd be allowed to throttle him. He didn't get the term quite right."

Katherine swallowed a laugh – she'd thought much the same thing herself during her own pregnancies, but laughing wasn't an appropriate response. "Do you need to leave?"

Anne shook her head. "No, I'm not going to be ill, it's just mildly irritating at the moment. I don't remember my sister's letters mentioning this – but then, Mary would forget to say anything, or else she'd be the lucky one who didn't have this problem. I've been meaning to call the midwife who confirmed that I was pregnant back so that I could ask her about remedies, but something always comes up and I forget."

Katherine shook her head. "I had horrible morning sickness with Mary. The midwife I consulted said that chamomile tea was the best remedy she knew, and she was right. You might try that. You haven't had any craving trouble yet, have you?"

"No, luckily. Apparently Mary had an urge to eat tree bark in her fifth month. I'm praying any cravings I have will actually be edible. And I'll certainly see about acquiring some chamomile. This is driving me insane. Though it will all be worth it," she said, with a faint smile.

"Yes, yes it will," Katherine said, her eyes on Mary, who was dancing with Henry. Anne followed her gaze and smiled. Mary's silver gown matched the silver that could be seen through the slashing of Henry's black velvet suit. Clearly, his clothes had been chosen both to compliment Mary's and also to avoid clashing with Anne's gown or Katherine's wine red one. Father and daughter were putting many of the other dancers to shame, moving with a grace that was especially impressive in the twelve-year-old princess.

She glanced around, looking for others that she knew. George was leaning casually against a wall, talking animatedly with Francis Weston, a friend of his. Hal and Kate had been dancing, but now she watched as they slipped quietly out of a side entrance. She frowned slightly, but shook off her worries. Hal was a young man, no more irresponsible than most but certainly no less, and with any other girl she would have not trusted him. But Kate was sensible, and knew better than to allow more liberties than she ought. However, she did not like the way her Uncle Norfolk's eyes tracked the pair.

* * *

Anne was right not to like the look on her uncle's face. Norfolk was furious with his son. He'd already ordered him to stop paying court to the Parr girl. Nothing could come out of a romance with her; she was too far beneath them for that. Apparently the boy needed to be told that in stronger terms. Or he could find a way to separate them more permanently.

Hal tugged Kate down the corridor, both of them laughing. "We really should get back," she said, biting her lip.

"You said it was too hot in there," he reminded her. "It's much cooler out here."

"Yes, but…" She trailed off when he looked up. "What?"

"Mistletoe," he explained. "Tell me, Mistress Parr, do they make people kiss under mistletoe in the countryside?"

"Um…" She nodded.

"Good, then this won't confuse you," he told her, before lowering his lips to hers.

A/N: I'm not sure if mistletoe was in vogue back then, so please forgive me for that. Same goes for the ice skating, though I'm reasonably more confident on that one. And don't worry about the OC, Juliana. She's going to be referenced once more, but in this case and that one, she's just a convenient way to get something to Anne. She won't actually be making an appearance in the story. I like OCs in their place, but this isn't it. And I just have to say this; choosing gifts for characters was harder than working out my real life Christmas list! Oh, and if anyone has any ideas on a godfather for the coming Tudor-Boleyn baby, let me know.


	17. Ultimatums

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Quick clarification here. Catherine Brooke's mother is Maria de Salinas, who married Lord Brooke, not Lord Willoughby. The Lady Rosalia Willoughby mentioned in this chapter is one of the three Spanish-born ladies that Wolsey dismissed in the show and Henry invited back last chapter; I decided it would be simpler to just have her be married to Lord Willoughby.

Also, I wrote most of this chapter while listening to Christmas carols (finals are over and I'm home for the holidays!). Anyone know why 'Greensleeves' is considered a Christmas carol?

_**Chapter 16 – Ultimatums:**_ Hal knew from the moment he was ordered to report to his father's office in their London house that it would be bad. He might be young, and a bit reckless, but he was no fool, and he'd seen the way his father had been watching him when he was with Kate. The Duke of Norfolk had very definite ideas about who his son should be associating with and to what degree. A mild flirtation with a knight's daughter who was also his cousin's companion was acceptable, but Hal's father was not stupid. He knew things with Kate had progressed beyond that.

It had taken Hal by surprise. He'd started out just wanting to be friendly to the new girl at court, remembering how bewildering it had been when he'd first come to court himself. And the flirting was natural; she was a pretty girl. But he hadn't expected it to be more than a little fun for either of them. Which only showed that his father was right sometimes – he really _was_ a bit of an idiot. He had entered into flirtation with the simple goal of amusement, and had found himself head over heels in love.

He was, however, stunned that it had taken his father this long to do something about it. He'd first kissed Kate at Christmas, and it was now late February. But then, right after Christmas there had been that minor issue on their estates, something about unhappy tenants becoming violent. Hal didn't know the details, but his father had immediately left to go take care of it and punish the instigators. He might have cared more if it hadn't meant free time to spend with Kate without worrying about his father. But under the circumstances he was just glad his father had been distracted.

Now, though, he wished that Thomas Howard was still distracted, rather than glowering at him from across the desk. Hal stood there like a naughty schoolboy about to be chastised, and he did not like the feeling. "I told you to stay away from the Parr girl," his father said, his voice low.

"I know, Father."

"You know? Then why is it that I returned to court to find that you are still involved with her?"

_Because I'm in love with her and you can't change that_. But he didn't say that. It would only serve to anger his father further. So instead he remained silent, giving only a shrug as his answer. That wasn't exactly wise, as temper flared in his father's eyes.

"Is that all you can say?" he snapped.

Hal had an idea then, and adopted a casual expression. "I thought I could make her my mistress, but she's stubborn. I guess I'm just intrigued by a challenge."

"Be that as it may, you could cause a scandal which would not only stain your name but your cousin's as well. Mistress Parr is Anne's companion, and anything inappropriate that the chit does reflects badly on her mistress. So. You're going to end it now, or I will end it for you."

His own temper flared, just a bit, and Hal asked, "Oh? How?"

"I'm sure I can find something for you to do overseas," his father said carelessly. "Now get out of my sight and end things with that girl!"

Hal left his father's office, his heart pounding. Damn! He'd hoped the mistress line would calm his father down, but no. That made it a waste of an unpleasant lie; he wanted to marry Kate, if he could. He actually hadn't considered that part of his father's problem with him and Kate was the potential for it to stain Anne's reputation as well. Put that way, his father's strident orders made a little more sense, though he still disagreed with them. Anne carried all of the family's hopes, and if she fell…

Wait. Anne. His cousin was fond of him, and of Kate. She would want to see them happy, and would certainly be glad to see them happy together. What if he could talk to her, ask her to get the King to intercede on his and Kate's behalf? If the King himself supported the match, his father couldn't deny it. The idea had possibilities. But would it be better for him to approach Anne or for Kate to do it? Either way, he had to speak to Kate first. He wasn't about to get approval for a marriage before knowing for sure that the lady in question wanted to marry him. But if she did… Yes, this idea could definitely work.

* * *

"Your Highness, allow me to present my ward, Mistress Catherine Brooke. She's going to be joining you at your lessons," Brandon said politely as the girl at his side curtsied. Cathy felt the weight of the slightly younger girl's scrutiny, and hoped that the Princess liked what she saw. She rose from her curtsey and gave Mary a friendly, slightly uncertain smile. Brandon bowed and left the room, and Mary smiled at Cathy. "Hello, Mistress Catherine."

"Your Highness," Cathy said politely.

"So, you have been living with my aunt. What has she told you about court?"

Cathy hesitated. Princess Margaret was a nice woman, really… unless you brought up the subject of the King's handmaid. If you did, you would be treated to the very sharp edge of her tongue. At Christmas, Lady Anne Boleyn had sent toys for baby Edward, and the Princess had been furious. Just remembering her guardian's reaction to that made Cathy shiver slightly. She didn't understand why Princess Margaret hated the Lady Anne so much, and she had long since decided not to ask. Unfortunately, when she'd asked about court, she had triggered a rant.

"Not much, Your Highness. His Grace told me some stories, and helped me remember all of the protocols, but I don't know that much." _Or rather, I don't know much that I ought to repeat. _She didn't know how Princess Mary felt about her new – was stepmother the right word? It was the closest one, Cathy decided, even if it wasn't entirely correct. And most of what she knew about court involved the nasty comments Princess Margaret had made about Lady Anne and her family. She had said nice things about Princess Mary, though, and Queen Katherine. And the Duke had said good things about the King, even if his sister was calling him a "complete idiot" at the moment.

"Well, you'll learn quickly here, and I have a friend who's also fairly new to court. I'm sure she'll be able to help you if you need it," Princess Mary said with a smile. "And I'll help as much as I can, of course." She tilted her head. "So, do you go by Catherine or some other name?"

"Um, Cathy, usually, Your Highness." Though her mother had sometimes called her Catalina instead… But she didn't want to remember that, so she pushed the thought away. Thinking of her mother, however, did remind her of something. "My mother told me she was friends with your mother when they were girls," she said a little shyly.

Mary grinned. "My mother said the same thing, and she also said you speak Spanish. Do you?"

"Some, though I'm not perfect," Cathy replied.

"That's wonderful," Mary said, delighted. "That means we can practice together. My mother taught me Spanish just like yours taught you, and it will be nice to have someone else to speak it with. I think we're going to get along just fine, Mistress Cathy."

Cathy certainly hoped so. She wasn't entirely sure why Princess Margaret and the Duke of Suffolk had wanted her in Princess Mary's household, but since she was here, she wanted to get along with the other girl. Edward was fun to play with, but he was just a baby, and she hadn't had any proper friends her own age since her mother said she could no longer spend time with any of the servants' children. It was all right for young children to play together when their ranks were different, her mother had told her, but once she had grown up enough to start learning how to be a lady, it was no longer allowed.

If she could become friends with Princess Mary, it would be the first time in a while that she'd been close to someone her own age. And it would be nice to follow in her mother's footsteps, befriending the daughter of her mother's childhood best friend. Her mother would have been thrilled to see her daughter as a companion to Katherine's, and Cathy would make her proud, even if she wasn't here to see it.

* * *

"So how did you survive it?" Anne asked bluntly. Katherine raised an eyebrow, a little confused. She glanced around before answering, even though there was little point of that. They were in Anne's chambers, after all, and while Mistress Parr was there, along with Lady Willoughby, Katherine's attendant, they were at the other end of the room, creating at least the semblance of privacy.

"Survive what, exactly?"

"Henry's overprotective streak," the younger woman clarified, her voice extremely dry. "I think that if he could have put me to bed for all nine months he would have, and even as it is, he's going to drive me insane. I'm not an invalid, after all."

Katherine laughed a little before she could stop herself. Henry was quite maddening when he was being overprotective. She remembered it vividly from her own pregnancies. For the first month or so, being coddled was a pleasant experience. Then it became mildly annoying, and usually by the end of the third month, it was absolutely infuriating. Still… "I reminded myself that he had good reason, and you should probably do the same."

Anne flinched. "Oh… I'm sorry. I didn't mean – "

Katherine shook her head. "I know you didn't and believe me, I remember how aggravating he could be. Combined with the regular nuisances of pregnancy it was almost too much. But in the end… Well, you can't stop him, so the best thing to do is just resign yourself to it."

"Oh." Anne shook her head. "I had a feeling it would be something of that sort."

"Yes, well, once Henry takes an idea into his head, turning him from it is almost impossible."

"I've noticed."

"Well, Henry's maddening ways excepted, have you been having any troubles? I know you said that the tea worked out for you…"

"It was practically miraculous, it worked so well," Anne said with a nod. "Overall, though, I haven't had any problems – except for an annoying urge for oranges, which is not exactly convenient, given the season." She shook her head. "Still, it's better than tree bark; Will Carey told my brother and I all about Mary's sudden desire for it in her fifth month. Apparently he was hard-pressed to stop her from stripping some off a tree and nibbling on it."

Katherine could not quite suppress a disgusted shudder at the thought. Though she knew her own sister Isabel had experienced cravings for grass when she was pregnant with her ill-fated son Miguel, Katherine herself had been lucky. She had craved Spanish dishes which she could never get in England, but even having urges which could not be fed was better than being able to feed such disgusting ones.

She might be able to help Anne out a little though. "I get certain foodstuffs shipped to me from Spain from time to time, and I often get some oranges. They're not my favorite fruit, and I wouldn't mind giving them to you – if, of course, you haven't started craving something else by then."

"Oh, does that happen often?"

"Yes, actually. When I was carrying Mary, I had a terrible desire for peaches, but as with you, it was the wrong time of year, and by the time Henry was able to get some for me, I could not stand the sight of them. Henry was beside himself. In hindsight it's a bit amusing, actually…"

Anne blinked. "Well, if that does happen, I hope you won't be annoyed with me, since it's also happened to you."

"No, not at all." Katherine frowned. "Where has your young companion gone? It seems that she's just disappeared."

Anne looked over to where Kate had been sitting with Rosalia Willoughby, seeing that the Spanish woman now sat alone. She turned to the Queen and handmaid, looking a bit uncertain. "There was a note slipped under the door," she explained. "Mistress Parr said it was from a friend of hers, and that there was no need to disturb you. I happened to see a bit of it, and it appeared to be from a suitor, based on the language."

"It was probably from Hal then," Anne muttered thoughtfully. "That's odd though; he usually doesn't pull stunts like this. I wonder what…" She stopped abruptly, her hand falling to her stomach.

"Is everything all right?" Katherine asked, a little sharply.

"I… I'm not sure. I think so… I think the child just moved. It didn't hurt or anything, it was just so…" She shook her head, not able to properly describe it. Katherine understood, just as she understood the mix of shock and joy in the younger woman's eyes. She expected to feel jealousy, and there was a bit of that, but… To Katherine's own shock, though a tiny part of her resented that it was Anne feeling this now, for the most part, she found that she was quite happy for the younger woman. It was, after all, an amazing thing.

* * *

Kate didn't like the almost wild look in Hal's eyes. He seemed a man possessed, and she couldn't understand why. He wasn't even speaking to her. Instead he was pacing his chamber, muttering things she couldn't quite decipher.

And that was another thing. She knew that she really shouldn't be in his chamber, but there was no need to fear that he would be endangering her virtue, not when he was in such a state. There was a tiny part of her that said, _More's the pity_, but she quashed that firmly. It was all right to think about it, maybe even daydream a bit about it, but she knew it was very wrong to give herself to anyone but her husband. But at the moment, her suitor was getting on her nerves.

"Hal!" she snapped. It was rare for Kate to raise her voice, and she suspected that it was that which made Hal stop dead and spin around, staring at her with his mouth agape. She took a deep breath before saying in a much calmer voice, "What's wrong? Why did you want to see me?"

"Oh, Kate…" He raked his fingers through his dark hair, looking agitated. "My father… He's really set himself against us now."

"He always disapproved. What's changed?"

"He's threatening to send me overseas if I don't end things with you."

Kate bit her lip. "Do you… I mean, is there anything we can do?"

Hal nodded. "There is something, but…" He paused. "Kate, I promise, I'm not suggesting this just to thwart my father, but the only way we can stop him is if we marry."

Kate blinked. Marriage? That was something usually left to parents to arrange, not something one did on one's own. She didn't know what to say, and so at first she said nothing.

Hal took her hand in his, his dark eyes on her face. "Kate, I swear. I want to marry you, I would have wanted it even if my father didn't care, I just might not have asked it now. But I can't imagine having anyone else as my wife. I love you, and that's why… If you don't feel the same way, if you don't want this, then I will not trouble you further."

Kate stared at him, and then she shook her head. "How could you think I didn't want it? I think I've been in love with you since we first met and you were so kind to me. I don't care if we have to rush things now because of your father. But… if he disapproves, what can we do to gainsay him? He's one of the most powerful nobles in the country, we'd have to have…" She trailed off, suddenly realizing what he had in mind.

"We'd have to have the support of someone even higher than he is. The Lady Anne is above him; by virtue of being the King's handmaid she's practically royal. She likes you, and she and I get on well. If one of us can talk to her, and get her on our side, she might speak to the King. If she can convince him to support us, my father won't be able to speak against our marriage. Even if he wants to."

"It should be you," Kate said with a nod. "That way, the King is more likely to approve. He'll sympathize with you as a man in love. If I spoke to Lady Anne, he might take me for an upstart."

"All right," Hal agreed. "I'll speak to Anne. But in the meantime…" He reached into one of his drawers and felt around for something. He pulled out a small velvet pouch, untying the string that held it closed and upending it. A simple gold ring set with a small but seemingly perfect ruby fell out. He took her hand and slipped it onto her ring finger. "A promise, so you know that I mean to have you as my wife. If this doesn't work out… I will find a way, even if we have to run away."

Kate looked down at the ring, then back into his eyes, and she believed him. And she knew that she would run with him if it proved necessary, with no regrets.

* * *

Anne's page interrupted her musings, and she was so deep in thought that the boy's voice startled her. She'd been remembering the feel of that slight flutter in her abdomen, the feeling that she knew was that of her child, and her focus was turned inward, hoping to feel that again. She was so intent that she didn't hear what the boy was saying to her. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"My lady, the Earl of Surrey is here to see you."

Ah. So was she to get an answer to the earlier mystery? "Very well. Send him in, and then leave. You as well," she added to the maid who waited to see if she needed anything. The two of them left, and Hal entered. He bowed as was proper before taking the seat she indicated to him.

"So, cousin, what was that business with the note about?" she asked him without preamble.

"I needed to talk to Kate," he explained. "You see, my father has issued an ultimatum; either I end things with Kate or he'll send me to the Continent. I need your help."

Anne's eyes widened. "I can't believe he'd go so far… Actually, I can," she said, more to herself than to Hal. Then she frowned. "What exactly do you want me to do? I won't be able to change his mind, you know."

"I know, but… I was hoping that you could get the King's approval for our marriage – Kate's and mine."

"Oh," Anne said, her thoughts whirling. It was a daring plan, but it made sense. If Henry supported the match, her uncle wouldn't dare to thwart it, even if he desperately wanted. However… "do you love her, Hal? Because Kate is becoming quite dear to me, and I won't have he tied in a marriage with a man who only wanted her for a time, and then no longer did." She was adamant on this. She'd seen too many women cast aside at a husband's whim, and she'd never been able to help. But she would stop it from happening to Kate if she could.

Hal nodded. "I do, I really am in love with her. I never thought it was anything more than the courtly games we play, love, what with how my parents despise each other so, but… I would do anything for her. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really would."

Anne, thinking of what she'd done for love, didn't think it sounded ridiculous at all. In fact, it told her that supporting her cousin was the right thing to do. So she reached out and squeezed his hand gently.

"It sounds like a man in love," she said gently, "and so I will speak to the king for you."

* * *

"I felt the baby quicken today," Anne announced. Henry dropped his fork, seizing her hand with a look of stunned joy on his face.

"Truly, sweetheart?" he asked, a little breathless.

She nodded. "Yes, truly. It was too faint for anyone else to feel, but… it was amazing. It didn't seem real before then, even with the morning sickness and the cravings."

"Yes…" Henry was a bit sheepish. "I'm still having a hard time trying to find oranges."

Anne laughed. "Katherine said she might be able to help. She said she gets things from Spain sometimes, and she often gets oranges."

"Did she really?" It had been Katherine who'd first reminded him of the handmaid privilege, but he'd never expected her to be so considerate of the new woman in his life. Though now that he thought about it, from what he'd seen, Katherine and Anne were on good terms. He would have to thank Katherine; he still remembered how, as a young boy, his chivalrous side had been horrified by what a good wife must feel if her husband took a handmaid. He had not understood the importance of a male heir then, but he still should remember that his boyish opinion had been partly accurate, and that this couldn't be easy on Katherine. Her behavior was more than he could have ever expected, and he was grateful. He hadn't wanted anyone hurt by all of this. It was ill luck, nothing more, and there had been enough pain from it.

Anne nodded. "She's been very helpful, with this and other things, Henry. I'm so glad of it."

"So am I," he said honestly. They ate in silence for a bit longer before he frowned at the preoccupied look on her face. "Anne, is something wrong?"

"Well… Not exactly, but I did need to talk to you about something."

"What?"

"It's about my companion, Katherine Parr. She and my cousin, the Earl of Surrey, have fallen in love. They want to marry, but my uncle disapproves. I just want to help them, and I was hoping that you…"

"That I what?"

"If you supported them, my uncle would too," she explained.

Henry considered it. On one hand, this Parr girl, the daughter of a knight, could just be looking to improve her station. Her father had been a sheriff in his life, but he had not been a particularly high-ranked man, and the girl – the oldest in the family, if he remembered – did not have the best of prospects, which was likely why she'd been sent to court. And yet he knew Anne was a good judge of character, and if she believed the couple to be truly in love… He was in love himself; how could he deny his joy to someone else.

"If you would like me to, my love, I will," he said, and was rewarded by a brilliant smile.

"I would be so grateful, Henry, and so would Hal and Kate."

"Very well then," he said jovially as he lifted his goblet. "To the Earl of Surrey and his soon-to-be bride!"


	18. Commitments

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: OK, boys and girls, we're now in early May, and Baby Tudor-Boleyn is scheduled for the beginning of July, two chapters from now if all goes according to plan.

_**Chapter 17 – Commitments:**_ Thomas Boleyn managed to keep his face composed as he knelt before his sovereign, despite the triumphant smirk that his lips wanted to form. He was, at this very moment, becoming Viscount Rochford, all because of the moving child in his daughter's womb. As he rose, he caught sight of said daughter, whose eyes were happy for him, if slightly guarded. And he suspected that the happiness was as much for George, who had been made a Knight of the Garter. He did not really care if his daughter was happy for him, of course, but for some reason, he was thinking of George's words to him.

He shrugged aside the faint chill the memory gave him. His daughter had family loyalty, and even if she did not, he planned to do nothing to draw the King's wrath on himself, so he would never be dependent on his daughter's favor to save him. And the King would favor Anne's father even if Anne did not, because to elevate his heir's family was to secure that heir's position, and there was no other way to do so. After all, his elevation now was because the child had moved, not because Anne had asked for it.

George was happy too, though unlike his father he was not self-satisfied. He knew very well why he had been honored. The King knew that he and his sister were close; there was no other reason. He loved his sister, but he was not without ambition. However, George understood that as of now, the two strongest feelings within him dovetailed. His loyalty to Anne would result in rewards from the King.

It was a relief to know that he wouldn't be conflicted anytime soon. As long as Anne was first in the King's heart – even if she was not the first woman of England – those members of her family who she loved would be secure. All George hoped was that Anne didn't do anything foolish, since that the King was not the first person in her heart. But considering who was… George was relatively certain that Anne would be careful, even if she didn't want to be. With any luck, they'd all be all right, at least for now. If her child was a boy, they were safe. If the baby was a girl… That would buy Anne two extra years and prove her fertility. It would also buy George more time to permanently end his father's designs on the Queen's life. Either way, they were safe for now.

* * *

Norfolk was not precisely unhappy to see his nephew and brother-in-law honored. To be honest, there wasn't much more he personally could receive, and he was angry enough with his son that right now, he didn't want to see the boy get anything. Besides, the King had also handed out a handful of posts to Howards, and that was a good thing. For Norfolk, it was influence that would be his reward for his niece's position. He was already a Duke and could rise no higher, but he could always have more influence.

However, that did not mean that Anne could get away with working against him. There was nothing he could do about this ill-matched wedding between his son and the Parr girl, and he knew it. Anne had secured the King's favor, so he would have to grit his teeth and bear it. With any luck, the chit would die in childbirth – preferably with a daughter – and then he could find a new wife for his son, a more appropriate one.

For now, though, he intended to make it clear to his niece that maneuvers like the one she had made were unacceptable. So when he entered Anne's privy chamber to find Katherine Parr there, his already-stormy expression became downright dangerous. Anne, seeing it, sighed. She'd been expecting this.

"Kate, go. The same for the rest of you," she said, raising her voice so that her two maids and her pageboy would leave as well. Kate shot her one worried look before leaving, though she lingered until the others had left. When she walked past her future father-in-law, Norfolk gave her a sharp glare. Kate managed to return his furious look with a calm, steady expression. She was not going to let herself be afraid of him. Fortunately she did not have to stare him down right now, so she left.

"Hello, Uncle," Anne said tiredly. She was not in the mood to deal with this.

"What, exactly, were you thinking, running to the King? You knew full well that I did not want my son marrying that _attendant_ of yours, and yet you purposely defied me."

Anne jerked her chin up defiantly. "I was not aware I was under orders from you. Kate is a perfectly acceptable bride. She's certainly no lower-born than my father – in fact, I believe her lineage is a bit better on her father's side, and while her mother's family isn't the Howards, they're perfectly respectable."

"She was not my choice."

"And who would have been your choice? My God, how much higher do you think the family can rise? How much higher can you go before an enemy decides it's too much, or worse, before the King decides you've leapt too high? If you ask me, it's much safer for Hal to marry a respectable girl who won't dishonor the family but also won't infuriate anyone by being too high-born herself. And they're in love, they'll be happy. They will certainly be more fortunate than you and your wife, though I suppose your laundress makes up for your marital troubles."

Norfolk's hand jerked up, but he stopped himself. Slapping his niece would be a very bad idea, and he knew it. However, he would not grace such comments with a response, so he turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming loudly behind him. Anne sighed when he left, putting down the orange that she had been about to peel when he had entered. Somehow, though she was pleased with herself for silencing him, she wasn't hungry anymore.

* * *

Kate smoothed her dress, though there were no wrinkles in the pale blue silk. It was simply a nervous gesture. She didn't think anything could stop this marriage, not when the King had given his approval and would, in fact, be attending, but… It would be a foolish girl who was not at least a little concerned about the fact that her father-in-law-to-be hated her. Although, in retrospect, that meant that her future mother-in-law absolutely _loved_ her. Kate wasn't sure if becoming the latest facet of the near-legendary feud between the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk was a good thing for her or a bad one.

She told herself not to worry about it. The Duke would do nothing when he knew that the King had approved this match, and the Duchess' approval certainly wouldn't make things worse for her. All that mattered was that Hal loved her, and that both of them were secure at court. He was the Earl of Surrey and a favored courtier, while she was companion to the King's handmaid, the second woman in England. They would be all right, even with Norfolk's enmity. Still, she found herself toying nervously with the ruby ring Hal had given her.

"Katherine, stop fidgeting!" Kate jumped slightly at her mother's sharp rebuke.

"Yes, Mother," she said obediently. She folded her hands in her lap as her mother finished dressing her hair. She was not wearing a hood today. Instead her blonde hair was caught in a net of silver thread that matched the embroideries on her gown. She wore sapphires in her ears and a pendant to match. The earrings had belonged to her father's mother, and the necklace was an early wedding gift from the Lady Anne.

"You look beautiful, Katie," her little sister Anne said brightly. Kate smiled at the younger girl, only thirteen. She knew that Annie was imagining her own wedding day, dreaming of it as most young girls did. She hoped her sister would find a man she loved as much as Kate loved Hal. The chances weren't good, but there was always hope. After all, Kate hadn't thought to find love, and look at her. So maybe her little Annie would as well.

As for their brother, Will, who was here today but not in the room where Kate was getting ready, well, his wife would likely be chosen for him. But he was a year younger than Annie, so it was still very early to be thinking of it. And besides, today she should be thinking of her own future. It was just that there was a little more uncertainty in that future than she would have liked.

* * *

Hal was nervous too, as he stood before the altar and watched Kate approach him. He knew that he had made an enemy of his father, but he had an ally in his cousin. Through her, he had the King on his side, so he and Kate were safe. But that wasn't what really scared him now. He didn't think he deserved this. Kate was a wonderful girl, sweet and kind, while he had always been an empty-headed, reckless flirt. Was he capable of being a good husband? He wasn't sure. All he knew, as Kate reached him and slipped her slender hand into his, was that he was going to try, with all that he had. And he would love her, even if he wasn't perfect at the rest of it. Perhaps that would be enough.

The celebrant for their wedding ceremony was Anne's confessor, Thomas Cranmer. It was yet another sign of approval, and both the bride and groom appreciated it. Kate had gotten to know Cranmer a little, since they were both part of Anne's household. He was a kind man, if almost painfully shy at times. He was very intellectual, and Kate liked him. She was glad to have him presiding at her wedding. It soothed her nerves to have a friend – even a casual one – doing this for her and Hal.

She recited the marriage vows, her voice trembling slightly as the enormity of this finally crashed down on her. She was getting married. She was getting married to a boy she loved, who loved her. Suddenly she smiled, and she didn't stop smiling until the rings were on their hands and Hal kissed her lightly. They had done it. Despite everything, they were husband and wife, and what God joined together, no man would put asunder. They belonged to each other forever.

* * *

The rest of the day seemed to pass in a haze, and Kate was sure she remembered almost none of it. She was too happy to focus. There were a few things she remembered, like her mistress giving her a hug. Kate had protested, and Lady Anne had laughed. "You're my cousin now, Kate, and I'm happy for you." She also remembered Annie teasing Will, who had apparently decided he was in love with the Princess Mary, though he'd only seen her for a moment. And she remembered how, for almost the entire time, Hal stayed beside her.

Now the day was over, and she was waiting for him in his bedchamber – _their_ bedchamber, she reminded herself. Once again she was nervous, as a maid helped her undress and then left at her command. She ran a brush through her hair, trying to calm down. She knew that Hal had experience in the area of sex – it was a rare nobleman who had not tumbled at least one servant girl. But he knew that she was a proper noble girl, a virgin whose only knowledge of such things came from what gossip she overheard.

She didn't have an older sister to help her, and her mother had been unwilling to discuss it. It was not a fit topic for discussion, she said. Kate knew that was why Lady Anne had pulled her aside before she retired.

_"Kate, I'm not sure how much you know…"_

_"I know… Well, I know where everything… how… Um, I know how it's supposed to work, but…"_

_The Lady had looked for a second as though she was caught between amusement and sympathy, but the latter won out. "Oh. Well, that's a good start, but you do know it's not just an unpleasant duty, not when there's affection involved. Hal… He knows a bit more about it than you, which is actually for the better. It means he'll know to be more careful of you. You do know that it hurts, the first time?"_

_Kate had nodded. "I did know that. I overheard a servant girl talking about it at home. She said it wasn't too bad, unpleasant but not horrible."_

_"That's not a bad description, actually. Is there anything you want to know, anything you didn't want to ask your mother?"_

_"No, really, I think I'm prepared enough."_

Maybe she should have asked more, but the only questions Kate wanted answers to brought a hot blush to her cheeks just by thinking of them. She certainly couldn't imagine speaking them aloud! So she hadn't, and part of her was regretting that now. What if she didn't know what to do, and she made a mistake? She wasn't even entirely sure what would constitute a mistake!

The door opened and Hal entered, cutting off Kate's thoughts. She gave him a slightly uncertain smile, and he grinned at her. "I'm not going to eat you, you know," he teased lightly. "Relax, Kate."

"Would you like some wedding ale?" she asked, choosing not to admit that he was right and she was nervous. He nodded, so she poured two mugs of it, which they tapped together in a silent toast before drinking. After draining his mug, Hal stood and turned down the bedcovers before climbing into bed. Kate hesitated for a moment before following suit. He turned to her, a different sort of smile on his face, one she hadn't seen before that sent a thrill through her body. He pulled her to him for a kiss, and for the first time his hands slid down her body as he did…

Later, she washed the blood away before slipping back into bed, thinking that maybe she hadn't needed to be so nervous. She didn't think she'd done anything wrong, and she suspected that she would enjoy learning how to do things right regardless.


	19. The Waiting Game

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 18 – The Waiting Game:**_ The room was gloomy and dark, at least compared to the airy rooms she generally occupied, but supposedly that was the best environment for the birth of a royal baby. Anne checked at the threshold, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. She'd never had much problem with that before – if she ever felt closed in, she would just go outside, even in the depths of winter. But now… now she wouldn't have that option. And it was the final weeks of May, when everything outside was warm and beautiful. She longed to be able to go outside, to escape from having to enter this dark chamber, but she knew better. There would be other May days, but she could not risk the health of her unborn child. So she took a deep breath and entered.

At least she wouldn't have to spend all her time here alone. There were the midwives, of course, but Kate would be about, and her father had sent for Mary. Anne's sister had come despite being four months gone with her own second child. Anne hoped that her sister's unborn babe would be the same sex as her own – if so, they would be perfect companions. She felt a little guilty that Mary had been forced to travel in her condition – no one would have dared suggest that Anne do the same, even in the early days – but she was too relieved that her sister would be around for the guilt to be strong.

"So, how are things in the Carey home?" she asked her sister once she was settled in the room, Mary sitting next to her bed and both of them with sewing in their hands. The sisters had shooed their newest cousin away, telling her to go spend some time with Hal before settling to stay with them.

"Oh, it's as usual. Baby Henry is walking, he's even starting to babble a little. Will thinks it's funny that our little boy tries to run after him when he goes out to inspect the land or to go hunting. I don't want to think about when they'll cut his hair and put him in proper boys' clothes. I don't want him to grow up, it's silly but I wish he could stay my little boy."

Anne smiled. "You've time yet, Mary, don't fret. It's not good – "

"For the baby," Mary said, giggling. "I imagine you're as tired of hearing that as I am."

"Oh, you have no idea! Henry's far worse than Will ever could have been. I'm lucky he didn't shut me away in here for all nine months!"

Mary shook her head. "Well, Anne, with the Queen's history, you can't exactly blame him."

"I didn't say that I blamed him, but it doesn't make it less frustrating to be treated like an infant or an invalid."

"Well, that bit's over now."

"Right," Anne said sarcastically. "Now I just have to get through the labor, yes?"

Mary nodded, sympathy on her face. "It's not… Well, no, I won't lie, that'll make it worse. It's not the easiest thing in the world, but I'm sure there are worse ones. Who knows, you might be lucky and have an easy time of it."

"Did you?"

"The midwives said so, and they should know." Nothing would make Mary admit that if her labor had been easy, she hoped she never had a hard one. But telling her little sister that wouldn't do any good, and would only make Anne nervous. They didn't need that.

* * *

Since Anne had gone into confinement, Henry found himself increasingly at loose ends. It wasn't that he couldn't ride out and hunt if he wanted, it was just that… Well, as ridiculous as it was, he was afraid to. For Katherine's first few pregnancies, he'd been the same way, but as time went on, he'd reached a point where he expected disaster, and so he didn't feel the same nervous anticipation. Instead, he'd distracted himself with mistresses. Now, though, it seemed to be back with a vengeance.

So he stayed close to the palace. And he found things to do. It was annoying Wolsey, he knew, because one of the things he had decided to do was take a greater interest in the running of his kingdom. Wolsey clearly didn't know what to make of it, since until recently Henry had been perfectly happy to leave the serious business to him. Henry could see the Cardinal's consternation, even though he concealed it well, and he'd even seen an almost unnoticeable gleam of amusement in his Secretary's eye. Cromwell apparently found it all entertaining, for some reason. Though Henry himself had been hard-pressed not to smile a little at Wolsey's shock.

But right now he didn't want to bother with papers, and he didn't feel like engaging in a few rounds of tennis, though Charles had offered, as had George Boleyn. He'd thought about visiting Anne, but the young Countess of Surrey had said she was asleep, and he didn't want to disturb her. Which had led to him walking aimlessly, thinking that he probably should be doing something, but he wasn't sure what. But then he had a wonderful idea. He hadn't seen much of Mary lately, and it was high time he paid his daughter a visit.

He walked quickly to her rooms, hearing the sounds of music and laughter coming from the open door. He stood in the doorway, startling four of the five occupants. The young violinist – a find of Anne's, as he recalled, someone called Mark Smeaton – almost dropped his instrument as he hurried to bow. Lady Salisbury quickly looked over Mary even as she curtsied, clearly checking to make sure the girl looked appropriate, while Mary and her companion, Catherine Brooke, both curtsied. Catherine's curtsey was a little shaky and he could see that her cheeks were burning a bright red, but as for Mary… Even with her head down Henry could see her wide smile at her father's appearance. Katherine, who had been sitting off to one side, was the only one who appeared unruffled, rising from her chair and curtseying gracefully. "Hello, Henry. This is a surprise."

"I thought I would pay a visit. I expected to find two young girls with a boring tutor. But what is going on here?"

"Mama showed us a Spanish dance," Mary said brightly. "Cathy knew it from her mother, and we were practicing it. Mark was helping by giving us music to dance to. Would you like to see, Papa?"

He grinned. Just at that moment, he found he would like nothing more. So Mary and Catherine – he really would have to tell Charles and Margaret what a wonderful idea sending her had been, Mary seemed so happy to have a friend her own age – moved to the center of the room. At a nod from Mary, Smeaton began to play again, and the two girls danced. Henry raised an eyebrow at Katherine, knowing that his amusement showed. He recognized that dance. It was the same one Katherine and her Spanish attendants – which, he recalled, had included young Catherine's mother – had performed during the banquet following her marriage to his brother.

The amusement faded as he remembered how he'd felt that day. He'd been so excited to lead the exotic stranger up to the altar, to be her escort as he had been when she'd arrived in England. It had been such fun for him, to be like an adult, to have such important duties. But she had given him a shy smile before they stepped into the church, and when she had danced with her ladies that night, he'd never seen anything like her. He could still remember falling in love her then and there, and if he were quite honest… He'd never really fallen out. His feelings had changed, in some ways – the passion was gone, though the deep affection remained – but they had not disappeared.

It was strange, really. But then, maybe not as much as he thought. It was said that while his grandfather Edward IV had been entranced by his wife, Elizabeth Woodville, he had taken so many lovers that Henry likely had a host of bastard cousins he knew nothing of. And of one of the last, Elizabeth Shore, it was said that he had loved her, but in a way different to his love for his Queen. Perhaps that explained how he could love both Katherine and Anne, in different ways. And perhaps the most ridiculous thing about all this was that he was attempting to rationalize it.

His father had been like that. The first Tudor king had thought that everything was something that could be made rational, made to fit ideas of logic. Yet here he was, doing exactly the same thing. It was unsettling, so he pushed all thoughts of his strange emotions aside and focused on his daughter's performance. Mary did very well, and her new friend was only a little less skilled.

He clapped his hands, impressed. "Very good, both of you," he said genially. "I think you should dance in the hall; you'd put all the other ladies to shame."

Mary grinned widely, her eyes sparkling. "Thank you, Papa!" Catherine, blushing and looking down, murmured her own thanks. Katherine added her own words of encouragement and pleasure, and when Henry caught her eye, they shared a quick smile, both of them pleased at their daughter's grace and at the clear friendship growing between the two girls.

Later, when Mary and Catherine – who, Henry noted, was generally referred to as 'Cathy' – were back at their studies, he and Katherine took their leave. Clearly she expected that they would go their separate ways, so Henry quickly said, "Mary's doing very well, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Katherine said with a soft smile, thinking of her bright daughter.

"Charles and Margaret were right to send their ward to be her companion – I don't think I've ever seen her in such a good mood. And I suppose it's no surprise they get on – wasn't Mistress Brooke's mother a good friend of yours?"

"Maria de Salinas. She came over with me, and we were friends long before that. She was my best friend growing up, as a matter of fact."

"And now our daughter and hers are friends. Fitting, isn't it?" He grinned. "I imagine it's a good thing none of my friends have daughters her age; I wouldn't want to see them get into the sort of mischief I delighted in."

Katherine shook her head. "Yes; I remember. I heard a few stories about the things you got up to. Margaret liked to tell me all about the torment the pair of you put your attendants through."

"Ah, well, I've left those times behind, and as long as Mary's not repeating my mistakes I see no reason to dwell on them." He hesitated, and then said, "I think I will join you for dinner tonight."

"I would be honored," Katherine said, with a slightly quizzical smile. He grinned at her and gave her a light kiss on the cheek before turning and walking away. Katherine watched him go, arching one eyebrow. She had resigned herself to Henry being indifferent to her. As long as he didn't start ignoring Mary again, she could live with it. But apparently his attitude toward her was changing as well.

Part of her couldn't help but be suspicious, as it was such a complete change of heart from his recent behavior. But she didn't know that he had an ulterior motive. And yet… She did not want to get her hopes up. Not now. Perhaps it was just the coming birth of Anne's child, Henry's renewed hope for a son and heir, that was making him this way. He might well go back to his former attitudes once Anne was out of confinement. So for now she would not expect too much from one gesture, but… She could enjoy it while it lasted, and she should, especially if it turned out to be fleeting.

* * *

Kate really wanted to know what the Lady Anne was reading. The book had been brought by a clandestine visitor, a woman with dark curling hair and dancing brown eyes who spoke with an accent not unlike that of the Venetian ambassador. Lady Carey had brought the woman in, before coming over to talk to Kate about her wedding and life as Hal's wife, leaving the woman and Lady Anne to talk privately.

That was two days ago, and now Lady Anne did nothing except pore over the volume, biting her lower lip as though deep in thought. Perhaps, Kate thought, it was the sheer novelty of something new. After all, Lady Anne had been forced to remain in this room since mid-May, and it was now the first week of July. The midwives said the child should be coming any day now, but as of yet nothing had happened. It made sense that Kate's mistress would want a distraction, but she seemed almost obsessed by something in that book.

"Lady Anne, may I ask what you're reading?"

"Hmm?" Anne said, glancing up. "Oh, it's nothing, really, just a history."

"Oh, of Italy? I thought your friend might be Italian?"

Anne laughed. "Julianna? Yes, she's Venetian, but no, it's not about Italy. It's about the Moors of Spain, actually."

Kate frowned. She'd heard of them, hadn't she? "Aren't they Moslems? Infidels?"

"Well, yes, but… That does not mean they didn't have remarkable achievements, and they're the reason much of the classical learning has survived. And they had some intriguing ideas when it came to certain parts of society."

"Really? Like what?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," Anne said carelessly, her tone changing suddenly. Kate frowned, but didn't challenge the older woman. Clearly, the subject was to be dropped.

"Tell me, Kate, how are you progressing in terms of reading French?" Surprised by the abrupt change in topic, Kate stared at Anne for a moment before answering.

"Well enough, I suppose, though I'm not as fluent as I would wish to be." For several months now, she had been working on learning to read French well, because Anne said she had some books that would be interesting, but they were in French. Kate desperately wanted to get her hands on those. Hal didn't really understand her love of learning; he was a talented poet but he had no interest in books on the whole. He found reading to be dull and preferred to gamble or hunt when he wanted entertainment. But he respected her interest, telling her she could study to her heart's content provided she didn't make him do it.

"That's good. Tell me, do you have any interest in religion? You've never said, and I wondered."

"Well… What interest can I have? All I know is what the priests have told me all my life. I can't read Latin, and there are no English Bibles. It would be against the law to read an English Bible anyway."

Anne nodded. "That's true. But English law doesn't cover French Bibles, or at least, it only says that no Bibles can be printed that aren't in Latin. There's nothing about reading Bibles in French, and I happen to have one. Once I'm out of confinement and can get it, would you like to read it?"

Kate hesitated. If she said yes, she knew that Anne would be pleased, but… It might be true that French Bibles were not technically illegal in England, but the law was meant to prevent everyone except clergy – and royalty, and that handful of nobles and learned laymen who could read Latin – from reading the Bible. She remembered once, as a child of eleven, questioning her priest over something. She didn't recall what, it was a trivial matter, but he had coldly informed her that she did not need to know, she simply had to follow the directives of the Church. The admonition had smarted at the time, and it angered her to think of it even now.

He'd acted as if she was an idiot, which she was not. She could understand things – even religion – for herself if given the time to become properly informed. She was being offered that chance. But if anyone found out… It could get both her and the Lady Anne in trouble. There were many people of power and influence in the kingdom who were very conservative in matters of religion, including the King himself. Was it worth the possible risks?

But then, what harm could it do? Really? And besides, perhaps this was just a whim, one of the fancies pregnant women indulged in. Part of Kate hoped so, for safety's sake, even if a larger part hoped Anne was serious. If it was just a passing idea, there was no harm in agreeing.

"Of course," she said with a smile before returning her focus to the little gown she was sewing. She heard the rustling of paper and knew Anne had returned to her book. Footsteps soon after signaled the return of Lady Carey, who had been giving her daily report to Viscount Rochford and the Duke of Norfolk. Anne had disliked her sister doing that at first, until Sir George, having dropped by for a visit, said to her bluntly, "If Mary didn't do it, Father and Uncle would be here constantly, bothering you. Do you want that?" After that, Lady Anne had been much more amenable to her sister's actions.

Kate pursed her lips. She honestly did not understand Lord Rochford. Norfolk, well… His unreasonable animosity toward her had cultivated a responsive dislike from Kate, so she felt that she could not judge him fairly. But overall she had no opinion of Lady Anne's father, and so thought she could make better observations of him. One thing was certain; he did not care for his children as a father should, as Kate could vaguely remember her father caring for her and her siblings, or as the King did for Princess Mary and his short-lived bastard son. She'd heard of the celebrations honoring his birth, and his elevation to a dukedom not long before his untimely death.

Why did Lord Rochford seem to care so little for his children? Lady Carey seemed to be a nice woman, friendly, open, and charming. Sir George was certainly a charmer; half the ladies at court were in love with him, and Kate often thought she might have been one of them had Hal not taken her entire attention so quickly. Lady Anne was a wonderful woman, bright and funny, and sharing the same charm her siblings had. The three of them together were quite an experience, as Kate had discovered. They at least accepted her as family without question, something that was a heady experience after Norfolk's dismissal and the suspicion that his wife only liked her _because_ she made the Duke so angry.

All three Boleyn siblings seemed to be children any parent would be proud to own, so why exactly did their father seem to be indifferent, at best? After all, she still remembered that awful scene she'd all but walked in on, when Rochford had been berating his daughter for not being pregnant yet.

Her musings were interrupted by the thump of Lady Anne's book hitting the floor and her soft gasp. "I… I think the baby's coming."

Things became chaotic immediately. Lady Carey called for the midwives, who had been sitting around in the outer chamber, waiting for such a summons. One of them, a girl younger than Kate who was likely an apprentice, left quickly in search of towels and hot water, while the other three busied themselves around the bed. Kate had risen from her chair, feeling helpless. She moved to Lady Carey's side, murmuring, "Is there anything we can do?"

"Just wait and stay out of their way, and be here if Anne wants us," the older woman said.

And so that was what they did. As the pains got worse, Anne did want both of them at her side. She clung to their hands, trying not to cry out but not succeeding. Kate watched in trepidation as her mistress' face contorted with what seemed to be sheer agony. Was this what awaited her eventually?

But she couldn't work herself into a panic by thinking about that. Lady Carey was murmuring soothing words into her sister's ear, and while Kate could think if nothing to say, she kept her grip firm on Anne's hand – not that she needed to, she was afraid her bones might break soon if Anne held any tighter – and searched for words of encouragement, since she could not think of anything comforting.

Finally, the midwife in charge urged Anne to push and she did, crying out twice more before finally, finally, her child was born. Kate tried to look but couldn't see if the baby was a boy or a girl before the midwife took it away and slapped its rear to make it cry. Thankfully, the baby set up a loud wail, rousing Anne, who had dropped back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

"Boy or girl?" she asked hoarsely. Kate and Lady Carey both shrugged, because they didn't know. The midwife turned around, opening her mouth to answer the new mother's question. All three women waited, knowing that the answer would mean the difference between security for all concerned and the chance that even now, things could still go awry…

A/N: No lynching, hanging, drawing and quartering, beheading, burning, or any other method of execution, please. This is the first time I've been really evil in terms of cliffhangers for this story – I've done worse elsewhere. And if that's not enough, look at it this way – if you kill me, you'll never know what's going to happen next.


	20. Family Affairs

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 19 – Family Affairs:**_ "Henry, I…" Anne began uncertainly, her hold on her newborn daughter tightening unconsciously. Henry held up a hand, shaking his head.

"It's all right, sweetheart. My mother was the first of three girls before her brother Edward was born, and I know your sister is older than your brother. Both of our families have a history of starting with girls, but following with healthy boys." He smiled, and though it was a true smile, she could still see some disappointment in his eyes. Well, she'd expected worse, and overall he seemed to be pleased enough with their daughter, so she wouldn't let it bother her.

"She knows you," Anne said in an undertone, when Henry touched the baby's small hand and the girl's eyes, already darkening a little from the nearly colorless blue of birth, opened and focused on him.

"Yes, I can see that." Henry said as the tiny fingers curled around his finger. His breath caught in his throat, remembering three other times he'd felt an infant's fingers on his hand. His two lost sons, and Mary. He was sure this little girl would grow up to be as bright as her sister and as beautiful as her mother. She might not be a boy, but a healthy girl child wasn't the worst way to begin. A living, thriving child was a sign of fertility, and as he'd said, a firstborn girl didn't mean sons wouldn't follow. His uncles, the Princes in the Tower, had been preceded by several sisters, and had their young lives not been snuffed out by their usurping uncle, they would have likely lived long, healthy lives.

"Do you know what you want to name her?" Anne asked. Henry smiled down at her.

"Why don't you decide, sweetheart?" he asked. It was only right that the mother should choose the name for a daughter. He would name his son when the time came, Henry, Edward, or perhaps a new name, one that his son could hold without fear of having to live up to the relative he'd been named for. But he thought it would be best for Anne to name their daughter. If he remembered correctly, Katherine had named Mary.

"All right," Anne said with a smile. "But can I have a chance to think about it? I hadn't really… Well, I expected that you would want to name the baby."

"No, I think you should. But for now you should rest, and I have to go oversee the plans for the christening, and the celebrations in our little Princess' honor."

"There's one more thing, Henry. She's going to need a second godmother."

"I think I'll leave that to you as well."

"All right," Anne said, and Henry left. Mary, who had moved to take the baby, gave her sister a slightly worried look.

"Well, he took it better than I thought he might," she said encouragingly.

Anne nodded. "Yes, that's certainly true. I think that after all this time, Henry's pleased to have a healthy child. She's a good sign, and Henry is nothing if not optimistic. I'm more worried about the reactions of others."

"Like Father?" Mary asked shrewdly.

Anne smiled wryly. "What do you think?"

* * *

Kate sighed as she sat down at the table in the rooms she shared with Hal, pouring herself a goblet of wine and sipping slowly. "I take it the reaction wasn't good?" Hal asked sympathetically.

"Anne and Mary didn't seem upset. I think Anne's already fallen in love with her daughter, which is natural. I left almost as soon as the King arrived, but he didn't seem angry. A bit disappointed, perhaps, but that's to be expected."

"So then why are you so worried?"

"Because when George came to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl, so he could tell his father and yours, he looked very worried when he left."

"And I had good reason," a voice said grimly from behind them. Both Hal and Kate turned to see George in the doorway. He stepped inside and shut the door with a click before dropping into one of the other chairs. Kate poured him some wine and handed the goblet to him, watching in concern as he drained it in one gulp.

"So what did they say?" Hal wanted to know.

"Uncle Norfolk called Anne a useless jade, and Father… He didn't say anything, but the look on his face was terrible. I think he's gone to see Anne, and I was afraid to stop him."

"Afraid? But he might be absolutely horrible to her!" Kate cried. "How could you let him go?"

"Because," George snapped, "he would have anyway and if I had tried to stop him, he'd have been even angrier. It's likely that he'd take that out on Anne, don't you think?"

Kate bit her lip. She couldn't argue with that. It made sense, and it would be very like Rochford, from what she'd seen so far. He would be furious no matter what, and doing anything to make things worse wasn't good.

"You couldn't have gone with him?" Hal asked.

"He expressly forbade me to follow him, so no," George said. "And unfortunately, I doubt I could have reached Anne's chamber before he did."

Kate only hoped that the King was still there when his new daughter's grandfather arrived. Surely Thomas Boleyn wouldn't dare say or do anything too awful if his monarch was present?

* * *

When Katherine heard that Anne's child was a girl, she knew she had to go see the younger woman. She would have anyway, but, knowing how it felt to have a daughter instead of the longed-for son, she wanted to go as soon as possible. What she didn't expect was to run into her daughter just a few corridors away from Anne's chamber – and quite a distance from where Mary was supposed to be at the moment.

"Mama!" Mary said, shocked. Katherine gave her daughter a sharp look.

"Mary, aren't you supposed to be at your lessons?"

"Yes, but I…" Mary bit her lip, shamefaced. "I asked Cathy to distract Lady Salisbury so I could go see my new sister."

"Why didn't you just ask Lady Salisbury?"

"I did, but she said Anne wouldn't want to be disturbed. I thought I could ask Kate or Lady Carey and if they said I should wait, then I would."

Laughing would not be appropriate to the situation, but nevertheless, Katherine was hard-pressed not to. It occurred to her that only a short time ago, she and Henry had discussed how fortunate they were that Mary had not taken after her father and aunt in terms of her behavior. It seemed that perhaps they had spoken too soon. But at least Mary's actions were in a good cause.

She supposed she probably should scold, but Lady Salisbury would certainly take care of that for her later, and she was too pleased by the fact that Mary was obviously eager to see her new little sibling. It was such a change in attitude from her former stance that Katherine couldn't bring herself to be angry. So she simply shook her head, before indicating that Mary could come with her. Her daughter's bright smile only brought a similar expression to her own face.

But when they reached Anne's chamber, things changed abruptly. The page standing outside the door looked as though he wanted to refuse them entry, but he didn't dare, so he simply opened the door. The first thing Katherine noticed was Mary Boleyn – no, Lady Mary Carey, she reminded herself – sitting in a chair and rocking a small bundle. Her face was white and when she looked up at them, Katherine could see a red mark on the younger woman's cheek, as though someone had slapped her.

Lady Carey rose from her seat, but she did not curtsey because she was still holding the baby. Katherine understood that and it did not bother her. What bothered her was Anne's voice coming through the door to the other room, sounding subdued and almost scared, not like her at all.

"I didn't… How was I supposed to…?"

But whatever else she was going to say was overridden by an angry male voice, one Katherine recognized as belonging to Thomas Boleyn.

"You needed to have a boy! A girl is useless to us all! My God, if it wasn't for the fact that it would be taken as a bad sign, I would wish the child had been born dead. It certainly wouldn't be any less useful that way!"

Lady Carey took a step forward at that, looking torn between an urge to go in there and defend her sister and fear of her father. Mary had gasped upon hearing the man's words, but now she looked angry. As for Katherine, she was furious. How dare Boleyn wish death on his grandchild simply because she was a girl? She was about to go in there when she suddenly didn't have to. Boleyn stormed out of the bedroom, checking when he saw the Queen and Princess standing there. He offered a bow that was as shallow as he could get away with, then made to leave.

"Stop." It was all Katherine said, and it was clear that the man – if he could be called that – didn't want to obey, but he had no choice. He turned around, his eyes still blazing with the fury he'd unleashed on his younger daughter.

"You told your daughter that you wished your grandchild dead simply because that little girl is not useful to you? I would remind you, Boleyn, that the child you speak of is a Princess and therefore wishing death on her could be seen as treason. Even if that were not the case, how _dare_ you wish that sort of pain on your daughter? I seem to recall that two of your children died in infancy, and I'm certain you saw the effect it had on your wife. Or is it that you simply do not care?"

Boleyn looked as though he would dearly like to make some retort, but he was also well aware that it would be a most unwise idea. Katherine might take second place to Anne in Henry's affections, but she was still the Queen, and that rank required a great deal of respect. And so when she coldly ordered, "Get out," he had no choice but to obey.

Katherine saw Mary Carey's awestruck expression, but she was more concerned about her own Mary. She would have given anything not to have her daughter there. But Mary didn't seem upset. She was already approaching Lady Carey, trying to get a better look at the baby in the woman's arms. Katherine decided that for the moment, her daughter was all right. So she entered the bedroom, wanting to talk to Anne.

"You shouldn't have done that," Anne said immediately when she came in and sat in the chair next to the bed. Katherine studied the other's woman's face, taking in the too-pale skin and the wide blue eyes, and decided that she disagreed. "He… It wasn't worth it, and it's not as though I didn't expect him to react so unpleasantly."

"You should not be expecting such vile behavior. He had no right to say any of that."

"I'm not entirely sure he meant all of it. He's just… upset."

Katherine frowned. "How can you defend him?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized the irony of it. Years ago, before Maria had left the court to concentrate on being a wife and mother, she had asked Katherine the same thing. But that time the 'him' in question had been Henry, and the issue had been his infidelity. But Maria had understood that it was Katherine's duty to take Henry's behavior stoically; no daughter should have to simply accept it when a father was this cruel to her. "If Henry knew how he was behaving – "

"Don't tell him. Please."

"Why not?"

"As you said, wishing death on a Princess could be seen as treason, and even if Henry chooses not to take it that way… He's still my father. I don't want anything to happen to him. You can understand that, can't you?"

No, she could not. Katherine had grown up in a loving family, and even when, in later years, her father had neglected her and allowed her to live in poverty during the years of her widowhood, she had known why. It had not been done out of malice, it was simply how her father got things done. It had not eased things for her at the time, knowing that, but she appreciated the knowledge now. It was a very different thing to see a father who caused his daughter pain simply because he could, because he did not care.

But she didn't want to make things worse for Anne, and for some reason the younger woman still cared enough for that pitiful excuse for a father to want him to go unpunished. Katherine would respect that wish – this time. If she ever saw Boleyn behaving in a similar manner again, she knew she would take it to Henry, no matter what Anne wanted.

Turning to more pleasant matters, she said, "I did not get a close look at your daughter, but she seems healthy."

"She is, and she's beautiful. I didn't expect… I didn't know I would fall for her so quickly, but the second they let me hold her…"

"There was a connection. Yes, I know." Katherine smiled, glancing through the open doorway to where Mary was peering at the baby Lady Carey held.

"Of course you would," Anne said, nodding. Then she bit her lip. "I know that, traditionally, as Queen you stand as godmother to the first child by a handmaid, but Henry and I… Well, obviously we never discussed a second godmother before the birth, but he did say I could choose the second earlier."

"And you have someone in mind."

"I was thinking of Kate. She's the Countess of Surrey, so she should be appropriate. I thought you would want to know, that, and also that Henry said before that he wanted Mary to participate."

"He wants her to carry the chrism oil?"

"I think so, yes."

"I'm sure she'll be pleased. She seems to be quite enamored of her little sister already. Have either you or Henry decided on a name yet?"

Anne shook her head. "No. Henry said I could decide, but I haven't yet settled on a choice." She looked past Katherine at the doorway, a bright smile on her face. Lady Carey stepped forward, giving the baby to her mother before quietly asking permission to leave.

"Of course, Mary. You should rest too. I don't want my little niece or nephew harmed."

"Thank you, Anne," Mary Carey said. She curtsied to Katherine and Mary before leaving.

"She's pregnant?" Mary asked curiously.

"Yes, she is. We're both hoping the child is a girl, so that she can grow up with her cousin."

"You want her to be a companion like Cathy is for me?"

"Yes, Princess, that's exactly what I would like."

"It's a sound plan, if Lady Carey has a girl," Katherine observed. "But I'm surprised that she traveled while pregnant."

Anne shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable again, and Katherine guessed that the older Boleyn girl had traveled on her father's orders. The more she learned of that man, the more she disliked him.

"Can I hold her?" Mary's voice was hopeful, and she looked from Anne to Katherine with bright eyes. Anne considered for a moment, then nodded. Katherine helped as the child was transferred from her mother's arms to her sister's, and she also helped Mary get a proper hold on the baby before moving back. Mary smiled down at her new sister, gasping in delight when the baby's eyes opened.

"I think she knows me," she said excitedly. Then, looking up, she asked, "Does she have a name?"

"No, not yet," Anne said. Mary looked back down at the baby, her face screwed up in concentration, and Katherine suspected she knew what her daughter was thinking of. She almost said something to head her daughter off, but decided against it. She would see how this went.

Mary was remembering all she'd learned about her family heritage, trying to think of a pretty name. It had to be something from her English ancestors, and it should be a pretty name. But it should also be a name none of the current Tudors had, and a name that wasn't very common at court. She could already see her little sister was special, and she deserved a name that was special.

"Could you call her Cecily?" she asked. It was a pretty name, and although there were a few people of that name at court, it was not terribly common. Her grandmother, Elizabeth of York, had a sister called Cecily, and Edward IV's mother had also carried the name.

It occurred to her that maybe Anne, or her father, had another name in mind, and suddenly she was worried. But Anne was giving her a considering look, and then she nodded, smiling gently. "I think Cecily is a wonderful name."

Anne was startled when Mary turned a brilliant smile on her. But she was glad she'd decided to go with the young girl's choice, and Cecily was a beautiful name. Katherine, for her part, was glad to see Mary getting on so well with Anne, because it hopefully meant that the conflicts were over at last.

Mary looked back down at baby Cecily, wondering how she could have ever been upset over a new sibling. Her new sister was perfect, and as the older sister, Mary knew it was her job to watch out for her. She promised herself that she always would. She would never let anything bad happen to Cecily, no matter what.

A/N: See, I'm not quite as evil as you thought. I didn't keep you in suspense that long. I apologize to those who asked for a boy. Cecily was going to be the firstborn from the very beginning. The next arc of the story requires that Anne's position still be vulnerable, so her first child could not be a boy. I hope you liked how Mary finally fully came around in this chapter. Babies have their own magic, yes? It works on most people – though obviously not 'Papa' Boleyn. Hope you guys also liked Katherine's laying into him, and don't worry, he's going to get a little more in the way of punishment.


	21. A Measure of Security

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 20 – A Measure of Security:**_ George Boleyn watched as his father paced the room, wondering if the older man would actually go so far as to have a real tantrum, complete with throwing things against the wall. He was certainly angry enough for it. George wasn't entirely sure he'd ever seen his father quite this angry.

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Boleyn ranted, and George had a feeling the 'she' in question wasn't Anne.

_In which case, Father, I think she's the Queen_, George thought sardonically, though he didn't say it.

"She keeps her position only because the King does not wish to anger her nephew, and she has the nerve to berate me for the way I treat my daughter? She has absolutely no right to tell me what I may and may not say to my child. She's going to pay for this."

"Would that be a good idea? After all, Mary and Anne both saw you quarrel with her, as did Princess Mary," George cut in quickly, suddenly very worried. "If something happens to Katherine now, everyone will suspect you, and even if nothing can be proven, it will taint us all."

Boleyn scowled. "Tell me, boy, why are you always speaking up for the Spaniard? Is there something I should know about?"

_No, there's something you absolutely can never know about_. "I simply don't want to see this family fall," George replied smoothly. "I honestly believe targeting the Queen is a dangerous idea. At this point, with only Cecily in the cradle – "

"Who?"

"Cecily. Anne's daughter. Kate, Hal's wife, told me her name. Right now, with only a princess to her credit, Anne's position is still uncertain. I know you're angry at Katherine, Father, but you always told me that emotions come in second place – if at all – to the need to advance the family. She doesn't matter. As you said, she keeps her position because the King wants to keep the Emperor happy, or at least not hostile. She has little influence on the King, so what can she do except throw empty words at you? Words mean nothing." Boleyn glared at his son, but that likely had more to do with his words being thrown back at him than anything else.

George prayed his father would see the logic in his argument, even though he was now irritated with Katherine as well. It wasn't fair, really, since the Queen had no idea that she possibly owed her life to George, but did the woman really have to make that particular job so bloody difficult? At this rate, his hair was going to be as white as his father's before he turned thirty!

* * *

Katherine knew that Henry had been busy with the plans for the christening and other events surrounding Cecily's birth, and she hadn't wanted to dissuade him from that, but it occurred to her that she should speak to him about the christening. He had told her directly that he wanted Mary to hold the chrism oil, but she thought it best to check with him and make sure that there was nothing else he wanted of her or of Mary. Knowing Henry, he might want something but had forgotten to mention it.

It was, she reflected, possibly the only good thing about Wolsey's former control over everything – no detail was ever overlooked. While Katherine wholeheartedly approved of Henry's taking the reins of power himself, at least to some extent, she had to admit that he still had a long way to go before he was as good at running things as Wolsey. She had not liked how the Cardinal had ordered things, but she had to admit he had done so quite skillfully.

When she entered his apartments, however, she found Henry poring over what looked to be a grant of nobility. Her eyes narrowed as she considered who that might be for. She had a feeling she knew, and if so she disapproved. If Henry was planning to elevate Thomas Boleyn again because his daughter had delivered a healthy child… She could not tell him why it was so inappropriate, because she had told Anne that she would say nothing of the incident she'd witnessed, but the idea of Boleyn being rewarded galled her.

"Katherine, what brings you here?" Henry asked curiously.

"I thought I would make sure that there was nothing else either Mary or I needed to know with regards to Cecily's christening."

"Oh…" Henry frowned. "No, I don't think there's anything."

Katherine nodded, letting her gaze drift over the desk. "You're giving out a barony?"

"Yes," Henry said, nodding. "It's for George Boleyn – Anne's brother. I'm also going to give her brother-in-law the sheriff's position for his home county and raise her father to an earldom. I want to ensure that Cecily – and the brother I'm sure is coming – will have a family that no one can disparage."

Not if she could help it. She understood and agreed with Henry's reasoning, but if she could talk Henry out of giving Boleyn a further honor, at least for now, that would be something. George, fine, he seemed to be a decent person overall and a good brother to his sisters, but their father was another case entirely. He did not deserve to be honored for the birth of a child he had wished death on.

"But you've already raised Thomas Boleyn once," she pointed out, her voice mild. "I can see that you want George to be a peer, because it will look good for the uncle of royal children to be one, but the elder Boleyn is already a peer."

"Yes, but a knight-turned-viscount may not be enough for some of the more arrogant royals, who might jilt Cecily or my future children with Anne. And besides, if…" He sighed, looking unhappy. "I don't think this will happen, but there's a chance that Anne… If things go as badly as they might, I would want Anne's family to be as highly placed as possible, so that she will be secure."

Katherine raised an eyebrow. "Well, if it's Anne's security you're concerned about, why not do something for her specifically? It will help Cecily and any future children as well, even more than if their uncle or grandfather is honored, because it's their mother whose rank is being changed."

Henry gave her a considering look, but then his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You know, Katherine, you've been very accepting of Anne, far more than I could have expected. I have to wonder why."

Katherine shrugged, feigning a casual air. In reality, she knew she had to tread carefully here, or risk Henry uncovering everything. "Remember that Anne was one of my ladies for over two years before she became your handmaid. During that time, I became rather fond of her. I'm accepting of her because she's never tried to hurt me, or Mary. She loves you and wants to give you a son, but she's not cruel or haughty because she's been chosen as the mother to England's heir. She's never given me or anyone a reason not to be accepting."

Henry smiled wryly. "You don't think you could tell Margaret that? No, don't bother; even Charles can't improve her attitude. She's claiming illness for the christening, as it happens. I don't believe her, but I have no proof, and I imagine that if I forced her to come, her ill humor would mar the festivities."

Katherine shook her head. "I'm sure Margaret will come around eventually. She's just… temperamental and stubborn enough that when she decides to take a dislike to someone, it sticks."

"Hmm." Henry shook his head, before once again applying himself to the patents in front of him. Katherine glanced at them once more, noting that Thomas Boleyn's name was not appearing, and then bade Henry farewell and took her leave. She hadn't expected the chance to ensure Boleyn paid for the disgusting behavior she'd witnessed, but she certainly wasn't sorry.

* * *

Kate took Cecily from Anne's arms and placed her in the cradle, relieved when the baby stayed asleep instead of waking up and crying, as had happened the last time. Cecily wasn't an extremely fussy baby, but when she started crying, it was difficult to calm her. Well, it was difficult for almost everyone. Anne and Princess Mary, apparently, had no trouble at all.

"I still can't believe you want me for one of her godmothers," she told Anne as she turned back around. "I mean, the Queen was always going to be your child's godmother, boy or girl, and I know the King of Scotland is to be her godfather. I would think you'd at least have to go with my mother-in-law."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "First, Henry said I could choose the second godmother, and I know of no rule that says all three godparents have to be royal, even if the child is. You've become a good friend to me, and I wanted you to be my daughter's godmother. It's that simple." She grinned. "Besides, Katherine's the only royal godparent present, and she likes you. King James' ambassador is acting as proxy for his master, and he's only a knight. You're a countess."

Kate rolled her eyes, but she laughed. "Well, that's all right then."

"Exactly," Anne said mock-solemnly. "Oh, I'm going to get ahold of that French Bible I told you about – assuming that you're still interested, of course."

Kate looked at her, wary. "I wasn't sure if you were serious."

"I was, but if you've changed your mind…"

"No, it's just that it's risky. I don't think even the King would approve."

Anne tilted her head thoughtfully. "You have a point. Hopefully that argument won't always be right."

"My lady, what are you saying?" Kate had a suspicion that she knew, though, and if she was right… If she was right, her mistress was straying into dangerous territory. And yet Kate found that part of her wanted to do the same. Still, she was afraid of what could result.

"Don't worry about it right now, Kate. Just read my French Bible, and keep your mind open. That's all."

Kate didn't think that was all, or if it was, it was only temporary. If she was right about what Anne was thinking, her reading a Bible certainly would not be all. Kate just hoped that things didn't crash and burn around them. It wasn't exactly advisable to entertain notions contrary to those of the King, and she suspected that Lady Anne was doing just that. And as intrigued as she was by the implications, she was terrified of what should happen if it were to go awry.

* * *

It wasn't the first time Katherine had held Cecily, but she was still surprised at how calm the child was. At least, she didn't have much problem with the baby; neither did Mary or Anne. Apparently Mary Carey and Lady Surrey did have occasional trouble when trying to soothe the young Princess, but Katherine didn't see how.

It was just as well that Cecily wasn't fussy for her first appearance in public. As the highest-ranking godparent present – King James of Scotland was represented by his ambassador, Sir Alexander Fraser – she was carrying Cecily. Mary, carrying the chrism oil, walked on her mother's right, a few steps behind, while Lady Surrey walked directly behind them, holding the long train of the christening gown. Sir Alexander walked beside the young Countess, both of them just outside the royal canopy held up by four young noblemen of the court, including Anne's brother and brother-in-law, as well as the Earl of Surrey. Henry was not present, of course, or at least not visibly so – Katherine knew he was there, hidden away behind a screen so that no one would see him and be distracted from the royal child being baptized today. He had done the same for Mary's christening, or so she had been told.

Cardinal Wolsey performed the ceremony, pouring the water over Cecily's head as Katherine held her over the golden font – a gift from King Francis, who was likely amused by the fact that after invoking such a drastic measure to get a son, all Henry had to show thus far was another girl. The baby let out a sharp cry, which was only to be expected. But she soon calmed down, and was mostly quiet as Katherine and Fraser made the requisite promises as godmother and proxy godfather to deny the Devil and to teach the new princess to be God-fearing.

Mary handed over the chrism oil, which was applied to Cecily's forehead. Lady Surrey made similar promises to those Katherine and Fraser had already made, her voice a little unsure as she spoke. Katherine suspected that the young woman was a bit unsettled by her inclusion in the ceremony.

Lady Surrey and Mary took the little Princess and dressed her in her white and lace christening robe before handing her back to Katherine. Fraser stayed back, watching and then falling back into his former spot at Lady Surrey's side as the procession wound its way out of the chapel. He was extremely grateful to not have to hold the child – babies scared him half to death. They never stayed still and he couldn't see how more people didn't drop them because of it.

The procession made its way to Anne's rooms, where she was sitting up in bed, dressed in a blue silk day robe with her dark hair combed out and falling loose around her shoulders. She took Cecily from Katherine with a slight smile, happy to have her daughter in her arms but knowing that she had to seem composed as long as the court could see her.

It was strange, but in some ways Anne was glad her first child was a girl. Yes, Henry had been disappointed, which had bothered her more than she'd thought it could. Even worse, Cecily's birth had meant that her own position – and therefore Katherine's – was not secure. And yet… A son, a Prince of Wales, would have belonged to England. A daughter, though, could belong to her mother, at least for the most part. And she envied Katherine and Mary their close bond; Anne's own mother had died before a similar rapport could form. Perhaps she could have such a relationship with her little Cecily.

* * *

Mary Carey stood with her father and husband, watching as her brother was made a baron. She could tell that her father was more than a little bewildered by what was going on, because no one at court had expected any of the Boleyns to get rewarded for Anne's daughter. But Mary's husband had already been made sheriff of their county, and now George was being created Baron Hunsdon. She suspected that what was really bothering her father was the fact that so far, he had not received any new honors.

It wasn't just that George was being raised to the peerage that was confusing her father – and others. It was the fact that, while Queen Katherine was seated on the King's right as always, Anne was not in her usual place on his left. She'd been churched a week and a half ago, so that wasn't the reason. Most people would have thought that she was out of favor, and indeed before they noticed her Mary had heard several courtiers saying just that. But since George had been made a baron and William had gained a new office, that could not be the case.

"Where is your sister?" her father hissed in her ear. Mary shrugged, thinking that she was enjoying this a little too much. She knew why Anne wasn't there, but watching other people be confused was entertaining. Glancing to where Hal stood next to his father, she noted that her cousin looked irritated. That, she guessed, was because Kate was also missing, and hadn't told him why she wouldn't be there. But the irritation faded to be replaced by surprise when the herald called out Anne's name. Everyone turned, shock clear on many faces.

Anne was standing in the doorway, her dark hair tumbling in loose waves down her back.

She wasn't wearing purple – technically, she couldn't before becoming Princess Consort – but her dress was a deep indigo blue, and it came within a few shades of being purple. Mary knew, because she'd asked, that this was intentional on her sister's part. Kate was carrying her train, and Mary saw Hal shake his head, smiling wryly. Apparently he was no longer angry.

As the younger of the Boleyn sisters approached the monarchs and knelt, whispering broke out amongst the courtiers.

"What is going on?" her father hissed in her ear.

Mary didn't need to respond because the voice of Secretary Cromwell answered for her. He read aloud from the patent, declaring that Anne was created Marquess of Pembroke in her own right, and that the title would pass to her offspring. There was an addition of substantial land grants, to "maintain her dignity". Mary bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, both at the look on her father's face and the thought that the little girl who had constantly slipped away from the nurses to climb trees and play with the tenants' children now had to maintain her dignity.

The King raised Anne up and kissed her hand before handing her the patent of nobility. Then he led her to the seat that had been left empty on his left, so that she was once again in her proper place. The point, Mary decided, could not be more clear. Anne's position was not harmed by the birth of a daughter; in fact, her place had been strengthened and she was now permanently secure, whatever happened. But clearly, the King wanted her by his side.

She could only imagine what her father must be thinking, having been passed over in favor of his son, son-in-law, and _daughter_. After all, raising a lone woman to the peerage had never been done before. It was, in fact, the one thing Mary didn't know; what had convinced Henry to do it? Common wisdom said he would have elevated the father of a woman he wanted to raise up. She wondered if it had anything to do with what had happened after Cecily was born. But how could it? The King didn't know about that, and if he didn't know, surely there was no way that her father's actions were behind this.

* * *

It wasn't until the next day that Anne managed to find the opportunity to speak with Katherine alone. "I wanted to thank you," she began.

"For what?" Katherine asked, raising an eyebrow.

Anne managed to refrain from rolling her eyes, barely. "I know why Henry elevated me instead of my father. You said something to him, but clearly you didn't tell him what happened. I appreciate it – all of it."

"I'm sure that I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course not." Anne hesitated, then said, "I know this means that things are still uncertain. My having a daughter is a good sign, but…"

"But you're not yet twenty. I doubt you have anything to worry about."

They spoke for a little while longer, before Anne had to take her leave. If people knew that the Queen and handmaid were meeting alone, they might start asking questions, and that would not be good for anyone. But Katherine said one last thing that had Anne feeling a curious sense of déjà vu.

"Anne, about your father. I meant what I said before. You shouldn't expect such treatment from him, and you certainly should not feel that you have to defend him."

Hadn't she told Katherine once that she didn't have to do something? And hadn't Katherine said that she had to, even if it seemed as though she shouldn't? Anne smiled wryly. "I do have to, actually. He is my father after all."

It was odd, really, that they should have something like this in common, and yet be so completely unable to comprehend the other's mindset. But Anne supposed this was why they worked so well together. They balanced each other out. She had to hope that time wouldn't change that, and that her next child was a Prince. Then they would all be truly safe.

A/N: Next time, we jump from late August 1529 to April 1531. Anne's pregnant again, Cecily is a cheerful little toddler, and there's a new family at court, whose ambition is going to cause no end of trouble…


	22. Change of Climate

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 21 – Change of Climate:**_ Kate stood at the window in her son's nursery, looking down at the note she'd just been given, by a manservant in the livery of George Boleyn. The message was not from George, though; it was from Mary.

_Kate, _

_I've just been told that William is dead and I need to go home to help his family make the arrangements for his funeral. Anne told me I could leave Henry as well as Catherine, which I did. But since I have to leave, Anne has no companion. I know I promised to take on your role for a full six months so that you could spend your time with little Nathaniel, but I can't. I hope you can come back to court as soon as possible._

_Mary Carey_

Kate sighed, turning to look at her four-month-old son in his cradle. Mary had taken over more and more of her duties as her pregnancy had progressed, and had agreed to spend six extra months doing so, allowing Kate to spend that time with her child. But she couldn't refuse to return early, not under such circumstances. And she had to admit, she did miss Lady Anne, and little Princess Cecily, not to mention Princess Mary and Mistress Cathy. She didn't know the Queen that well, not even after over two years at court, but she liked her. Of course, Hal was there, too and she missed her husband terribly.

It was some of the other things about court that made her hesitate. Things had changed, and the court was no longer the same place she'd entered with relief at escaping marriage to an old man, with hope for a better future. The court had become tense. It had all started when, last year, the King had commissioned an English translation of the Bible. Most people at court either didn't care or were smart enough to know that what the King wanted, he would have. Generally, people wanted to know why the king who had been named _Fidei Defensor_ had suddenly adopted even one Protestant idea.

Of course, some people did not remain quiet. When the King had first called for the new Bible, Wolsey had still been Lord Chancellor, but he had died of a heart attack before the printing was even completed. His successor, Sir Thomas More, was a devoted Catholic – Kate generally considered him fanatical, but that wasn't a word to be used in polite company – and while he had thus far said nothing against the King's Bible, as it was called, everyone knew he opposed it. He made his feelings clear by strictly enforcing all remaining heresy laws.

Kate shuddered at the thought of the punishment for heresy. She'd seen a burning once, when she was seven years old, and she still had the occasional nightmare from the experience. It often struck her as odd that a man who seemed so kind whenever she'd spoken to him could be such a strong advocate of a sentence that horrifying. It sometimes bothered her to remember that they were neighbors – the King had gifted her and Hal with a manor in Chelsea, Riversedge, and they'd decided to have their son's nursery there, so they could visit often.

Shaking the thoughts aside, she looked over her shoulder at the manservant. "Tell Lady Carey – or Lord Hunsdon, if she has already left – that I will return to Whitehall as swiftly as I may."

"Very good, my lady," the man said, bowing to her before taking his leave. Kate sighed, gently brushing her fingertips over her baby boy's head. She was going to miss spending most of her time with him. But surely she would be able to visit. And since Lady Anne was pregnant again… She'd promised that if she had a boy, Nathaniel could be a companion to him. It would be all right, surely.

* * *

Her brother had counseled her not to let the King's avowals of love and devotion to go to her head, even now that she was his mistress. She was to remember that her place in his bed was to do all she could to advance her family. As for the King, while he might mean those words now, he would forget her eventually. But Jane Seymour could not believe that Edward was right. Surely Henry couldn't be just saying that he loved her, that she was beautiful?

She was thinking about it while her horse was readied for a day of riding. The King had invited her and a few of the Queen's other ladies to ride with him and his companions. Of course, she and the King would not stay with the company for long. They never did. He said it was best that they slip away like this for their trysts, or that she had her brother escort her to the King's bedroom late at night.

_"I'm not ashamed of you, sweetheart, I promise. It's that with my handmaid pregnant, I don't want to risk a scene. I promise, it won't always be like this." _

Still, part of her was starting to wonder. If he truly loved her, then surely he wouldn't be afraid to show that in public. Lady Anne would simply have to take it in stride, as Queen Katherine had done many times. But instead, he kept Jane hidden away like a dirty secret. It did no good anyway; everyone knew the role she played in Henry's life. What would it matter if she was seen to play that role in front of others?

But when they were all assembled and Henry came to join them, she knew that it did not matter. He did love her, really, she was sure of that. He went to such trouble to be with her, so he had to. And that was worth it, wasn't it?

* * *

Mary had always hated her mother-in-law. Helen Carey was a cold-eyed woman who had always treated her with the utmost disdain, furious that her son had been forced to marry a woman who was the castoff of other men. To Will's credit, he'd never thrown her past in her face, though she knew his entire family disapproved of their marriage. She could have lived with Helen's dislike for herself, but the woman had shown an almost-equal aversion to her granddaughter. Not her grandson, of course, who was the family heir, but she had once said of Catherine, in Mary's hearing, that "the chit will likely grow up to be like her mother."

It had taken all of her self-control not to slap the woman right then. Now she stood next to her as they both watched Will's coffin being lowered into the ground. For the sake of appearances, neither of them could show how they felt, but Mary could feel the other woman's eyes on her. She did the best she could to ignore it, instead praying for the repose of her husband's soul.

It wasn't until after the funeral that she realized just how much the Careys' antipathy was going to hurt her. She stood in front of John Carey's desk, staring at him in shock. Will's cousin was steward of his estates, and he'd also been placed in charge of little Harry. "My cousin's son is to live here, with me," he informed Mary coldly. "As for you, I've allotted a portion of funds for your jointure. You will be able to visit Henry, provided you contact me ahead of time and I think it is a good time for you to see him."

He told her the sum and she only just managed to keep her composure. That was barely enough to live on! Worse, he was taking her little boy away from her. "Will said that he wanted Harry to remain with me, even if you were governing his affairs. And I'm owed a fair bit more than that as my jointure."

John glared at her. "I don't want that child being corrupted by his whore of a mother. Your girl is yours to do with as you will; I don't care. But that boy carries the name of Carey – even if I have my doubts about whether or not he carries the blood – and I will make sure he honors it. And you, you were forced on William, the cast-off of other men. By all rights, I shouldn't have to give you anything at all. Get out of here. I expect your son within a month."

She turned and strode out, glad that she did not run into Helen as she prepared to leave. Her hands were shaking as she gripped the reins of her horse. One of her escorts, a man called William Stafford, asked, "My lady, is everything all right?"

"Of course, Stafford. But we must return quickly to the court." Once there, perhaps she could get her father's help. Surely he wouldn't want to see a member of his family dishonored this way. And if for some reason he refused to help, perhaps she could appeal to Anne. However she managed it, she had to do something, because she could not let this stand.

* * *

"You know, I generally avoid taking married lovers," Francis Bryan said contemplatively as he pushed himself up on one arm, looking down at his lover. "The angry husbands are such a nuisance. Though I suppose yours doesn't care – at least you're not tumbling his father."

Anne Stanhope Seymour laughed. "Edward doesn't _care_ because he doesn't know."

"And you hope to keep it that way?"

"For the moment, even if I amuse myself from time to time by picturing his reaction."

"I'm sure it couldn't be that bad."

"Don't assume anything where Edward is concerned," she advised. "Actually, I could stand him, under normal circumstances. He's cold, but there are worse fates for a woman. It's that idiot brother of his, and his insufferable sister."

"Jane, you mean? The King's latest whore?"

"Yes. She's just a common trollop like all his other women, and yet she acts as though she is a paragon of virtue."

Bryan laughed. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

Anne smirked. "I don't try to pretend otherwise, or I wouldn't be with you, would I?"

* * *

"It's not the fact that he has a mistress that irritates me," Anne said honestly. "I know everyone expects me to fly into a rage the second Henry slips up and makes it obvious that he's bedding the Seymour woman, but the only thing that really bothers me is that Henry truly thinks he's hiding it. He doesn't have a high opinion of female intelligence, does he?"

Katherine raised an eyebrow. "You would rather he flaunted her? Trust me, that's not at all pleasant."

"I don't know, I just… I'm not a fool, neither are you, and to be perfectly honest, Henry's attempts to hide his affair remind me of a child who thinks he can't be seen because he's covering his eyes. It's insulting."

"Just accept it," Katherine advised. "Don't bring it up, and do your best to ignore it. Henry's giving both of us an easy way out by not parading Mistress Seymour around, and it's easier just to play along with him."

"So, humor him and all will be well?"

"Basically, yes."

Anne shook her head. "You are a much more patient woman than I am. But you also know Henry better than I do, so I'll have to assume you're right about him." Which, considering that Katherine usually was right about Henry, was probably a good idea on Anne's part.

A squeal of childish laughter drew her attention away from Katherine and toward the small group only a few yards away. Lady Bryan and Lady Salisbury were standing on the sidelines, watching their charges. Cathy and Mary were playing with Cecily and Catherine Carey, Anne's niece.

She smiled, remembering what happened whenever someone tried to call Mary's little daughter by her given name. George, perhaps because he was still unwed and therefore not a father, was a very doting uncle. He had taken to calling Cecily 'little Princess' whenever he spoke to her, and Catherine had been quite put out that she didn't have a nickname of her own. So he began calling her 'little Miss,' and it had stuck. At least the name Missy meant that she wasn't getting confused with anyone else. Considering how often Cecily and Missy interacted with Kate, Cathy, and Katherine, it could have been a problem later.

She wasn't entirely sure what the four girls were doing, although it seemed to involve the older girls being chased around and pretending to be scared. However, Anne noticed that someone wasn't having much fun. Her nephew Harry sat by himself, turning over the little wooden sword he carried with him everywhere. Apparently masculine pride began early, if he already refused to play with girls, she mused.

"Your nephew seems a bit bored," Katherine observed quietly. Her attention had also been drawn to the children, and it hadn't taken long to see who wasn't enjoying himself.

"Yes, he does," Anne agreed, frowning. Then, she found herself remembering another little boy, about the same age. Henry's nephew Edward seemed almost as lonely as Harry when she saw him. The little boy had no one his age to play with at court, and yesterday she'd seen him through a window, using his own toy sword to hack at imagined monsters. She had thought he was picturing himself as a hero from stories, like she could remember her own brother doing.

"Cathy, could you come here please?" she called, following that train of thought to what she considered a reasonable conclusion. Cathy detached her skirt from Missy's grasp and came over, curtseying politely to both women before saying, "Yes, my lady?"

Anne bit back a sigh. She'd finally broken Kate of that habit, but Cathy was proving much more stubborn about it. It was understandable, but aggravating. They weren't in public, after all. Shaking that off, she smiled at the girl. "Could you go with one of my pages to see if His Grace of Suffolk objects to his son joining the little play-group for today? I'm sure young Lord Edward would be more comfortable with the idea if someone he knows, like you, collects him."

Cathy looked a little worried, but she nodded and left with the page Anne had also summoned. She glanced over at Katherine to see that the other woman also looked worried. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Anne shrugged. "He's just a boy, and I've seen him looking almost as lonely as Harry. Besides, what could be wrong about him playing with his cousins and their companions? It's a perfectly acceptable situation."

After three years of close association with Anne, Katherine recognized that look in the younger woman's eyes. It meant that for some reason, she'd decided to take a stand on this, and nothing anyone could say would change her mind. It was frustrating when it happened, because inevitably it led to friction with someone. Luckily, Katherine had found she was quite good at derailing things before they became disasters. Though it seemed that this time she wouldn't be able to. With any luck, Brandon would allow his son to come, and Margaret would never find out. If he said no, Anne would be furious, which could be a problem, but if he said yes and Margaret learned of it… That could possibly be worse.

Cathy and the young page returned with Edward clinging to Cathy's hand. He hung back at first, clearly unaccustomed to spending much time around children his own age. But they drew him in, and Harry snapped out of his mood to ask Edward something. From here, Katherine couldn't hear what he said, but since both boys were soon playing at dueling with their swords – carefully watched by Lady Bryan – she could guess it had been some sort of offer to play.

Perhaps she had been concerned for nothing. She had been worried ever since Margaret had returned to court. The fact was that Margaret and Anne were both stubborn and temperamental, and unfortunately for them all, Margaret still hated her brother's handmaid. Eventually there would be some kind of confrontation, but Katherine just hoped it didn't come today. She didn't think the children ought to witness it.

* * *

"Where is my son?" Margaret demanded of the terrified-looking nurse. The woman seemed unable to speak at first, faced with the famous Tudor temper, but eventually she found her voice.

"His Grace allowed him to go with Mistress Brooke, to play with the Princesses."

"He did _what_?"

"I… I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I could not countermand him."

Margaret scowled, but said nothing. Instead she turned and walked out. What the hell was Charles thinking? She did not want her son playing with that woman's child.

It didn't take her long to find them, her son playing at swordfighting with Harry Carey. That only added insult to injury. The boy was the son of a whore, possibly her brother's bastard, and her son was not going to play with them. She strode forward, and her son looked up. "Mama?"

She calmed her temper just enough to speak calmly to her son. It wasn't his fault. "Edward, we're going now," she said, grabbing his hand. Footsteps behind her made her turn, so that she was looking directly at Anne Boleyn.

"Margaret, for God's sake, what is wrong with you?"

"I don't want you near my son!"

"Margaret…" Katherine stepped between them, not liking this at all. "Calm down. Don't cause a scene in front of the children. It's not right."

"What's not right is that she has my son brought here against my obvious wishes," Margaret snapped. "Catherine!"

Cathy came over, her face pale. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"If this ever happens again, you and Edward are to take your leave immediately. As for today, since you are clearly not having lessons, I want you to take Edward to his room. Now."

Cathy nodded and fled with Edward in tow. Margaret whirled on Anne again. "Stay away from my son."

"All I wanted to do was be kind to a boy who is my daughter's cousin. You're the only one who sees this as some terrible insult!"

"You ill-bred – "

"That's enough!" Katherine snapped. "Margaret, you're acting like a fool. Anne, this is no time to cause a scene."

Margaret scowled. "I will never understand either of you," she said in disgust. She turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving everyone else stunned.

"Mama, why was she so mean?" Cecily tugged on her mother's skirts, looking bewildered.

"Oh, darling, she's just… Don't worry about it. She's not important."

And maybe that was true, Anne thought. But she had a bad feeling lately, an odd sense of foreboding, as though something dangerous was coming. She didn't think it had anything to do with Margaret, but this little scene hadn't done anything to put her mind at ease.

A/N: OK, I know this last scene in particular seems odd, but there is a reason for it. It will all make sense soon.


	23. Intrigues

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**_Chapter 22 – Intrigues:_** "And how, precisely, is this a problem of mine?" Thomas Boleyn asked his elder daughter coldly. "It is for Carey's family to decide how his estates should be run and how his children should be raised."

"And I'm _your_ child!" Mary exclaimed. "John is trying to force me into penury, he's taking my child – your grandson – away, and it's all because _you_ wanted me to sleep with the Kings of England and France the second they looked my way!"

"You will not speak to me that way, do you understand?" Boleyn said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I'll speak to you however I want! Is this it, Father? Do you just use all of us until we outlive our usefulness, and then toss us aside like we're nothing?"

"You misunderstand me, Mary. I simply do not have the resources to help you. As a mere viscount, I don't have the ability to properly handle your affairs and my own. And I'm afraid your brother, as a baron, won't either, so you shouldn't consider going to him."

Mary felt cold. She'd known, not quite two years ago when Anne and George were ennobled, that her father suspected that she'd said something to the King about her father's awful behavior. She hadn't of course – as far as she knew Henry had no idea that his younger daughter's grandfather had all but wished her dead – but for some reason her father blamed her. She'd never been able to figure out why, and neither had George. She'd never asked Anne, because what good would it do? Besides, she didn't want to bring up that incident again.

She knew what her father was saying about George, though. He was warning her away from approaching her brother. George might be a peer in his own right now, but their father could still make things difficult for his son if he so chose. He had just made it clear that if she went to George, her brother would face unpleasant consequences. The worst of it was that really, she wasn't even surprised. She was hurt, yes, and terrified of what would happen if she couldn't get help from Anne, but she wasn't surprised. She only wished that she was.

* * *

"What, if anything, were you thinking, woman?!" Brandon snapped, all patience gone. Good God, but there were times he wished he could just shut his wife away where she couldn't cause any more trouble. He loved her, usually, but at times like this he really did not remember why.

"Me! What about you? You're the one letting him spend time with that harlot and her child, not to mention her sister's brats. They even say that boy is my brother's bastard, and my son should not be around them."

"The 'harlot' is the second woman in England, and her daughter is a Princess and heir to the throne after Mary. You need to start remembering that before you do something to get us killed!"

Margaret rolled her eyes. "I have the right to decide who my son associates with, and Henry is well-aware of that."

"Actually," Brandon shot back, "as your husband I have the right to overrule you, and I want to make sure that your brother has no reason to be suspicious of us. If that means Edward is to spend time with Anne Boleyn's daughter, niece, and nephew, then I'm fine with that! Cecily is Edward's cousin in any case. They should spend time together, they're family."

"No child of that woman's is family to me or mine," Margaret hissed.

"Can't you at least pretend to be fine with it? Didn't those tutors that the old king hired for his children teach you to hide your real feelings?"

"Why should I have to? It's a sad thing when the King's own sister can't speak her mind for fear of angering him."

"That's how the world is, Margaret. I don't care how you and Henry acted as children, you're not children now. He's King, and Princess or not you're one of his subjects. He'll take things from you he won't take from others because you are family, just he will sometimes take things from me he wouldn't usually accept because I'm a close friend. But he will only stand for so much, and you are coming very close to that line!"

He broke off, taking a deep breath. "Don't you understand, Margaret? Yes, Henry has forgiven us for marrying without his permission, but that proved, to me at least, how fleeting his favor can be. I was so sure that he would forgive us right off, his beloved sister and his best friend, but he didn't. We almost lost everything, and we escaped that once. Do you really want to try to do so _again_?"

Margaret shook her head. "It's not as bad as all that, Charles. I simply made it clear that I did not want my son in that group of children."

"Oh, it was more than that," he shot back, completely out of patience. "It's all over the palace that you called Anne ill-bred, that the Queen had to step in to stop the pair of you from coming to blows. Maybe some of the stories are exaggerations, but that only makes things worse! If Henry is angry – and you know he is – he'll choose to believe the worst. Why can't you see that?"

"She _is_ ill-bred. Her grandfather was a commoner, and her grasping father is despicable!"

"And she's also half-Howard, which certainly goes a long way toward shoring up her father's bloodline. And, anyway, Henry _doesn't care_. He loves her, she's given him one healthy child and there's no reason why this new baby shouldn't be an equally healthy son."

"She's not worthy to be the mother of England's next King."

"Whether or not you think that doesn't matter. What matters is that Henry thinks she is worthy, and he's chosen her to do just that. You're not going to change his mind, and even if you were, it certainly wouldn't be from acting as you have been."

Margaret scowled at him. "This all could have been avoided if you had simply refused to let Edward join them. I know you don't like her either, don't bother lying."

"How I feel about Anne Boleyn is irrelevant. We have to deal with her, and act happy about it too. Do I think there are better women out there? Yes. Do I actually have anything against Anne? No. To be perfectly honest, Margaret, she's not given either of us a reason to view her as an enemy. She's tried to make peace, it's you who won't. And you're the one who has to; Henry won't blame her."

"Is this what you want? To spend your time groveling before a knight's daughter?"

"What I want, what you want, what the Queen or even Anne wants doesn't matter. The only person whose desires matter, in the end, is Henry. What he wants is paramount, and all of us have to fall in line, and it won't go well for anyone who doesn't."

* * *

If one was to survive at court, the best strategy was to always know what was going on. This was something Kate Parr had first picked up on early in her first year serving as companion to Lady Anne Boleyn. She had begun by simply using her own observational skills. Always good, in the past couple of years Kate had become an expert at reading people. But she'd also learned to cultivate friendships, because no one could be everywhere.

Lady Anne Clifford had treated Kate coolly at first, because at that point none of them had known what to make of Anne Boleyn's new position at court. Since she was Kate's mistress, that same feeling extended to her. But once the ladies had come to approve of and even like Lady Anne, Kate had been accepted into the fold as one of them, even if she did not serve the Queen as they did. Her place at court was still similar.

"It's good to see you back here," Lady Clifford confided when they met in one of the knot gardens. "Poor Lady Carey, I've heard that her husband's family plans to make things as difficult as they can for her, and I don't suppose that father of hers will be any use."

"I don't know," Kate admitted, "but I'm sure Anne and George will do all they can to help if Rochford doesn't. What of the court? What have I missed, being away?"

The older woman pursed her lips. "The King has taken a lover again. Mistress Jane Seymour, this time."

Kate could see the woman in her mind. Jane was a year or so older than Kate herself, a pale blonde with gray eyes. She was so fair, in fact, that Kate sometimes thought the girl looked washed-out. What on Earth did the King see in her? She said as much, and Lady Clifford bit back a laugh.

"We all wondered the same thing. The Lady Anne we could understand," she explained, " because she always had this… presence about her, and she was always drawing the eyes of the young men. But Jane's a little mouse, or she was at any rate."

"She's not flaunting her new position, I'm sure," Kate said. She knew that Anne would have said something – such behavior would likely have infuriated her.

"Not as such, no," Lady Clifford agreed. "She's not arrogant, but she is so insufferably…self-righteous. She acts as though she is better than the other sluts because she behaves herself and doesn't flaunt her shameful behavior."

Kate rolled her eyes. She remembered trying to befriend Jane when the other woman had first arrived. She'd been rather snobbish even then, though at the time Kate had attributed it to nerves. People reacted differently when they first came to court. Some became quiet and withdrawn, as she imagined she would have if not for Hal and Lady Anne, while others became far more exuberant than they were normally in an attempt to seem at ease. Others became distant or cold.

"Well, it could be worse then," Kate remarked. "At least he's not parading her about." She'd heard about the celebrations in honor of Henry Fitzroy's birth, and Kate still didn't understand how any man, even one thrilled at finally having even an illegitimate son, could do something so cruel to a wife who loved him. Perhaps now he behaved only because he feared that any upset would make Anne miscarry. If that was the only reason, she didn't think much of the King. "How does she behave with Her Majesty and my lady?"

"Well enough. She doesn't interact with Lady Anne very often. She's always very respectful to the Queen, but I get the impression that she disapproves of the Lady."

"Well, isn't that hypocritical of her," Kate said dryly. "She'd best hope that she doesn't show that attitude around me, I won't stand for it."

"We all know that, Kate," Lady Clifford said, amused.

"And you're equally as protective of the Queen."

"I didn't deny it."

"Well then," Kate said, satisfied. "So, do you think she'll be any trouble?"

"No… Well, she won't. Her brothers I'm not sure about. Edward is an ambitious weasel, but he's also quite smart. The younger brother, Thomas…"

"Yes, I've met him," Kate said with distaste. "He attempted to convince me that not only should I disregard my marriage vows, I should do so with him."

"Oh, how lovely. Well, if you've met him then you know he's an idiot. Hopefully that means he won't have the brains to come up with any mischief, and his brother will be wise enough not to give him any ideas."

"Hopefully," Kate murmured, rubbing the back of her neck. Somehow, she didn't think things were going to be that simple. They so rarely were, after all.

* * *

"Do you know why he won't help you, Mary?" Anne asked, frowning.

Mary sighed. "He said he can't afford it, because he's only a viscount."

"What? That's ridiculous! He's very well-off; helping you wouldn't be a burden to him!"  
Anne cut herself off, shaking her head. "What about George? Did he turn you away as well? Because if he did – "

"No, no, of course he didn't! Father told me not to speak to him, and I thought it best if I obeyed."

Anne nodded, biting back the angry rant she wanted to give voice to. She didn't understand why her father refused to help, but what made even less sense was the fact that he'd stopped Mary from going to George. But he couldn't stop her from coming to Anne, which was why she was here.

For her part, Anne was determined to help her sister. Mary was being penalized for her past, for the affairs she'd had with two Kings. The Careys even tried to insinuate that Harry was Henry's son, not William's. That didn't even make any sense, because Harry was too young for that. Mary's affair with Henry had long since ended by the time she became pregnant. There was no possible way that her nephew could be the King's bastard, another Fitzroy. But the Careys would believe what they wished, and Mary had told Anne long ago that they liked to think Harry was the King's son.

It was enough to make her wish that she, like Henry, had the power to lock people in the Tower – or send them to the scaffold. She didn't think she'd do more than lock up the Careys if she did, but it would be fun to think about when she was particularly angry over her sister's treatment. Since she did not have that right, however, she pushed the idle thought away and focused on things she could do.

She could easily give her sister the money she should have been getting from her jointure; her own lands brought in plenty of revenue, it wouldn't be any hardship. But that was something that would be done quietly, and no one would know except the people in charge of the books. She would still do it if it came to that, but… She would rather have the Careys came to regret their treatment of Mary and her children. Besides, on her own there wasn't anything she could do about Harry, but if she spoke to Henry…

"Leave it to me," she said, giving her sister's hand a comforting squeeze. "I'll take care of everything."

* * *

When Cathy didn't show up for lessons at all, Mary decided enough was enough. She knew that her best friend was in trouble with her Aunt Margaret, but now she was starting to get worried.

She knocked on the door and when she didn't get a response, she pushed it open. Cathy was sitting by the window, staring out at the courtyard below. "Cathy?" Mary asked cautiously.

"Your Highness," Cathy said, rising and curtseying.

"Oh, stop that! You know I don't expect you to do that anymore."

"I've been told by Princess Margaret that my behavior is sorely lacking, and that I should take caution to be absolutely proper in all that I do."

Mary only just managed to suppress a snort at the thought of her aunt telling someone else to act properly – this from a princess who married a jumped-up duke in secret! She liked her uncle, although she knew that both her mother and stepmother did not, but it didn't change the fact that he was a wildly inappropriate husband for a princess, even if said royal lady was on her second marriage.

However, that reaction wasn't what Cathy needed right now. She needed support. So she came over and stood next to her friend. "Well, I think your behavior is perfect. Don't you think Lady Salisbury would have said something if she thought you acted incorrectly?"

"You know what she was talking about," Cathy replied sadly. "She doesn't want Edward around Cecily or the Carey children. Do you know why she hates Lady Anne so much?"

"No, I don't," Mary said truthfully. At the beginning she'd agreed with her aunt, and hadn't troubled to wonder why. As time went on and she found that Anne was growing on her, she hadn't seen what it was that angered her aunt so, and didn't try. "I know that she says it's because Anne is lowborn, but she seems to hate her too much for that."

Cathy nodded. She had a suspicion that it could be worse than that. Edward was, after all, in line for the throne. It was Mary, then Cecily, then Margaret, and then Edward. What if her guardian wanted her son to sit on the throne? What if that was why she hated Anne so much?

She said nothing of that, though. After all, she could be wrong, and if she was saying it would be a very bad idea. She didn't want anyone to think Princess Margaret and the Duke of Suffolk were traitors. Even if he wasn't, he'd likely go down with his wife. Edward would be ruined, and she herself might not come out of it all right. Besides, for all that she was irritated by him, Princess Margaret loved her brother. Surely she would never consider betraying him?

* * *

Henry looked over the law he was about to sign, feeling just a little apprehensive as he remembered the conversation that had led to this.

_"An English Bible is one thing, Anne, but this? I don't know. I do still believe the Protestants are heretics; I don't want to seem as though I support them." _

_"But you're not. All you're saying is that you won't torture people because they don't think the same way as you do." _

_"Heretics deserve to die that way." _

_"But don't you see, it has the opposite effect? When a man or woman dies for the Protestant beliefs, their friends make them martyrs. It only makes their arguments stronger."_

_"What? That's ridiculous. Why would seeing someone die horribly make anyone want to follow in their footsteps?" _

_"People look at them and think that there must be something to it if it was worth dying so painfully for. If you say that there will be no more heresy hunting, that as long as people keep their beliefs private they won't face the flames, Protestants lose their power. The common people will think that those who continue to preach are fools who must want to die, while most of those who sympathize with Protestant beliefs will keep quiet and not spread their ideas."_

It made sense at the time, and it still did now, but… It was very different from what he'd always believed. The heretics were to be punished for their heresy, and made an example of. It would teach their fellows a lesson, and they would stop their evil ways. But as Anne had pointed out to him later that day, when he'd said as much, that theory hadn't worked for anyone yet. The Emperor, for example, had tried very hard to root out heresy, but it had only gained strength. So perhaps this new idea of simply ignoring them, not giving them the chance to argue their case, would succeed where punishment had not.

He glanced up as the door to his office opened and Anne stepped in. "Henry, I need to talk to you."

"Of course, sweetheart," he said, rising and leading her to a chair. "I would have come to you, if you wanted to see me. You didn't have to walk all the way here."

"It's all right, it did me good," she said with amusement in her eyes. "I was getting restless, and I took it slowly. I'm very careful, I promise."

"Very well, but please, don't exert yourself. I don't want you or the baby hurt. But what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It's Mary."

Henry frowned. "My daughter? What – ?"

"Oh, no, my sister Mary. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. There are too many people who share names, aren't there? I remember that Lady Carey's husband died, and I hope you gave her my condolences."

Anne nodded. "I did, but… William's family is being horrible to her."

Henry couldn't see why. Mary Boleyn was a sweet woman, perhaps a bit flighty, but he knew she was a very kind person, and a good mother. She had to be, he thought; little Missy was nearly as adorable as her cousin, something he'd noticed long ago. She certainly hadn't inherited that from her honorable but dull father. "What reasons do they have?"

Anne looked uncomfortable. "Well, Mary has a… checkered past. I'm sure King Francis told you about the role she played at his court. He is a great charmer, but not very discreet. Anyway, the Careys didn't like that she married into their family, they considered it a dishonor. They've even gone so far as to say Harry isn't William's and that Missy is going to grow up to be a harlot. When William was alive, he defended Mary, but now… They're only giving her a tiny bit of her jointure, barely enough for her alone, and she has two children to worry about! And they've also decided to take Harry away, to raise him with his father's people and to only allow her to see him when they choose. If I know them, that will be never."

Henry couldn't believe his ears. That was not acceptable. Mary was Anne's sister and Cecily's aunt, which made her, in some ways, part of his family. How dare the Careys treat someone tied to him so cruelly? Even if there was some truth to the fact that Mary was not exactly the most proper of young noblewomen, she did not deserve such inconsiderate handling. And why, exactly, did Anne have to appeal to him? Why hadn't Thomas Boleyn done something? "Why hasn't your father tried to help, or George?"

Anne shrugged. "Mary said that Papa told her he couldn't afford it. I don't know why not, though."

Neither did Henry. True, Boleyn was only a viscount, but he was quite well-off. Surely he could manage to help his daughter. "And George?"

"He can, but I'm better placed to do so. I'm perfectly willing to support my sister from my revenues. I just told you because I can't do anything about Harry, and my sister's more upset about that than anything."

Henry shook his head. This wasn't Anne's responsibility, and she couldn't be expected to shoulder the burden, especially in her condition. "No, you don't have to do that. Don't worry about any of it; I'll take care of everything."

* * *

Edward Seymour considered himself to be an intelligent man, a shrewd one even, but right now he wasn't entirely sure what to do. Yes, his sister was the King's mistress, but he was being so discreet about it that the Seymours currently weren't benefiting from it at all. Jane was convinced that the King was in love with her, but Edward doubted it. He just wanted some entertainment while Anne Boleyn was pregnant, and once the woman was delivered, it was likely that Jane would be discarded. But there was a chance that when she was, she would be dowered well, and perhaps her family as well as her future husband would be compensated for it.

But he didn't _know_ that. For all he knew, the King might simply decide to sweep his affair with Jane under the rug, leaving her ruined and the Seymours no better off than when this had all begun. The suspense was the worst of it. He hated not having any clear idea of how things were going to play out.

His wife seemed to think that they were going to get nothing. God, Anne was an annoyance. At least he didn't have to worry about her sleeping with his father, though – he'd noticed that she seemed disgusted by the older man. And even if she did betray him, he didn't love her; he'd learned his lesson about that. He'd loved Catherine, and look where it had gotten him. Two sons who might actually be his half-brothers, and the mockery of his fellow courtiers. Perhaps that was why he wanted to take Jane and shake her when she spoke of the King's love. She didn't know that love wasn't the wonderful thing she thought it to be.

But right now that wasn't his chief problem. "Thomas, for God's sake, stop scheming. I know we've seen no return yet, but just be patient. A chancy bid for favor isn't going to help us at all."

"How can you just sit there?" the younger Seymour brother snapped. "Jane's opened her legs for him time and again and we've gotten nowhere! At least she has the decency to be a bit worried about how things are going to turn out, but you, you just sit there cool as ice, and tell me to wait. Well, I'm sick of waiting!"

"So am I."

"Then let's do something about it!"

"I don't know if there's anything to be done, but if there is, I will do it. You're too reckless; you prefer to act impulsively, and we can't risk that here. We have to go slowly, carefully, and you know I'm better at that."

"We've been moving slow! When are you going to do something?"

"When the time is right. But Thomas, I want your word that you're not going to do anything about this situation unless I tell you to."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Ned, don't be – "

"Your word, Thomas."

"Fine. My word that I won't do anything to influence the King. Happy?"

Not really. He didn't trust his brother not to try something anyway, but it was the best he could do save sending the younger man away from court, and he preferred having his brother where he could keep an eye on him. The worst of it was that Thomas had a point. Patience had thus far gotten him nowhere. But he had to believe that would change. He just had to stay the course.


	24. Matters of Conscience

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Just so everyone knows, we're now in May 1531. As this chapter and the next take place on the same day, you're free to imagine that it's the 19th. Do as you will; I only place months on my timeline.

_**Chapter 23 – Matters of Conscience:**_ It had gone too far. The English Bible had been bad enough, but France was an example of a country that printed Bibles in the vernacular but still remained Catholic. Thomas More had been able to convince himself that the English Bible was even a good idea. With more people able to access the Word of God, surely they would see the evils of heresy and turn from it. He'd clung to that hope, but now…

Henry was repealing most of the heresy laws. Unless someone was caught actively spreading heretical books or preaching heretical views, they would not be persecuted. There was to be no more investigation, no more proper procedure to destroy heresy before it could take root. Unless someone was distributing the books, they could not even be burned.

He could no longer stand by and watch. He'd tried, he really had. When Henry had made him Lord Chancellor after Wolsey's death, he had taken the opportunity to do all he could to destroy heresy in England. It was made difficult by the fact that someone was pushing Henry dangerously close to the edge himself. More didn't know if it was Secretary Cromwell, Lady Anne's confessor Thomas Cranmer, or perhaps Lady Anne herself who was behind it, but he knew it had to be someone the King trusted.

So he went to the King and resigned. It was the only thing he could do. Henry didn't order him to stay, he didn't even ask why. He didn't seem all that surprised, though he did seem a bit disappointed. "I'd hoped you would stick with me for a long time, Thomas."

"I am always at your service, Your Majesty. I simply wish to retire from public life, to spend my time with my family and my books." He was not such a fool as to tell the King flat-out that he was leaving because of a change in the laws. So he had bowed and taken his leave, but he had one last farewell to make.

"Sir Thomas, what brings you here?" the Queen asked, her voice concerned.

"I've resigned as Chancellor, Your Majesty," he said calmly. "I've come to say good-bye."

"Why did you resign?"

He couldn't tell Henry the truth, but the same was not true of Katherine. "It's the new heresy laws," he explained. Katherine's lips thinned.

"Yes, I know about those. I don't know what's been possessing Henry lately, and I suppose I'm not surprised that it became too much for you."

He shook his head. "I can't understand how in the course of only a few years, the King has gone from Defender of the Faith to this."

Katherine shrugged. "He told me that he felt that if he stopped making martyrs of the heretics, that it would weaken their cause. I don't know if that was his real motivation, but if it is, perhaps… It's a different strategy, and the previous ways of rooting out heresy have not been successful. I would like to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"So would I, but this was preceded by an English Bible. Taken together… I can't help but think that someone close to the King is a secret heretic, and is trying to make England a haven for all such people."

Katherine frowned. "Who are you accusing?"

"No one, because I have no idea," he said, deciding not to tell her of his suspicions. If it was Cromwell or Cranmer, fine, but if it was Lady Anne… He did not want to risk upsetting the balance that King, Queen, and handmaid had. If Katherine discovered that it was Anne and put a stop to it, all for the better, but he did not want to interfere in that. "It's just the only theory that makes sense to me."

Katherine nodded. "Thank you for being so honest about this. I don't know if I can do anything, but I will look into it. Take care, Sir Thomas."

"Farewell, Your Majesty." He bowed and left. Katherine returned to the needlework she'd been applying herself to before he'd arrived, but her mind wasn't on it. If More was right, someone was poisoning Henry's mind. She didn't want to think that – she wanted to believe that Henry's claim that this was a different way to root out heresy was true – but part of her doubted it.

* * *

Anne Stanhope sat back and watched her sister-in-law trying to convince Edward that everything was going to be all right. "He loves me, Edward, he said he never wants me to leave him."

"And what good does that do us?" Edward asked calmly. "If you're just his secret mistress, we get nothing."

Jane shook her head. "No, I don't think he means to keep me a secret forever. He's sorry for it, really, it's only because Anne Boleyn is pregnant and he's afraid upsetting her will hurt the baby. But I think once she's delivered, he might make me his _maitresse en titre_."

Edward froze. "Did he say that, Jane?"

"No, not yet, but he's hinted at it. I think he may well do it."

"Well, we'll see, but this is excellent news. Now, I have to go take care of something, so if you ladies will excuse me…" He left the room, the door closing behind him with a soft thud of wood on wood.

"So," Anne drawled, "we're supposed to rejoice because the seemingly virtuous Jane Seymour is about to become a permanent harlot, is that it?"

Jane whirled on her. "What did you just call me?"

"I called you a harlot. That is what one calls a woman who carries on the way you have." Of course, by that reckoning Anne herself was a harlot, but at least she never tried to pretend differently.

"I am the King's mistress. There is no shame in that."

"Not while he has you, no, and not when your family actually benefits from it. But truly, do you think that he won't just toss you aside once Anne Boleyn is churched? He's got a wife and a handmaid, everyone knows he loves them both in his way, so what could possibly make you think that you possess charms to pull him away from the wife who has kept him for twenty-odd years and the handmaid who still fascinates him and half the men at court?"

Jane stared at her, trembling. "That… That's not true. He said he loved me, he said that he never wanted our time together to end," she said, trying to sound convinced but really just sounding a little pathetic. Anne smirked. She'd been wanting to do this for weeks.

"All men say that, Janey, don't you know that? They'll say anything to get you in bed and keep you there – until they're not interested anymore. And I'm afraid that will be your fate. If you're lucky, I suppose the King will marry you off the way he did Mary Carey, but that's all you can hope for."

Deciding to leave while she still had the last word, Anne swept out of the room, idly wondering what Bryan was doing right now. She thought she could offer him some more… interesting pursuits.

Jane remained in her brother's apartment, still reeling from her sister-in-law's words. Surely Anne was wrong? Of course she was, she had to be. Henry loved her, he told her that every time they were together. And she wasn't a harlot. Harlots threw themselves at men; the King had pursued her, not the other way around. If anyone was a harlot it was Anne Boleyn. Everyone knew how she'd set herself at the King, seducing him into making her his handmaid. Jane thought that if there was no handmaid privilege, Anne Boleyn would have tried to make the King end his marriage to Queen Katherine.

She was the one whose presence had to be an insult to the Queen, not Jane. And yet the Queen's other ladies were quite friendly to Anne Boleyn, but cold and distant to her. They thought she didn't see the scorn in their eyes, but she did. It infuriated her. She did her best to be discreet, not only because Henry asked it of her but because she didn't want to make things difficult for the Queen. Bad enough that she should have to watch the King take a handmaid – not to mention see that handmaid elevated to a peerage _in her own right_, an unprecedented move – without having to have her husband's mistress shoved in her face. But no one seemed to notice that.

There was no shame in being the King's mistress. She was obeying her sovereign, and they loved each other. Surely that made it all right. She had to believe that he meant what he said, that he would do right by her. She had to, or else… If he didn't, she didn't know what would happen, especially now.

* * *

"Mama, look! Uncle George gave us new dolls to play with!" Cecily held out the cloth doll, dressed in a red gown, out to Anne, and she smiled as she took it.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart," Anne said. "Have you named her yet?" Cecily nodded enthusiastically and Anne asked, "What are you calling her?"

"Rose, like the roses on the windows and the walls," her little daughter said, referring to the Tudor roses that were displayed all over the castle. Anne laughed. She imagined Henry would be quite pleased to hear that.

"That's perfect," she said, reaching out to smooth Cecily's hair. "So tell me, what adventures have Rose and Missy's new doll gotten into?"

"Anne, did you have to ask that at the same time I did?" Mary said plaintively as Cecily and Missy launched into a tale of how Rose and Ivy – Missy's doll, dressed in dark green – had gone to a revel, and Harry's toy soldiers had come, and they all stayed up for the entire night because no one was allowed to tell them that they had to go to bed.

Harry, meanwhile, chimed in from where he sat a little away from his cousin and sister. "They made my soldiers come. They didn't want to dance around like _girls_," he said, all wounded male dignity. Anne and Mary exchanged a look, both willing themselves not to laugh. It was all too much like a scene from their own childhood. The young Anne and Mary had not been above stealing their brother's toys in order to make their own revels a bit more populated, and George's reaction had been almost identical to Harry's.

"Harry's just silly," Missy declared, shaking her head. "Dolls are fun." Cecily nodded solemnly while Harry did his best to look sullen. Anne and Mary were still trying not to laugh.

"Do you want to play now, Mama?" Cecily asked hopefully. Anne looked over, intending to let her daughter down gently, to say that she actually had to leave, but one look at her daughter's big brown eyes and the words died in her throat. She dropped a kiss on Cecily's dark head and took the doll she was offered.

"I'd love to."

* * *

Thomas Cromwell straightened the papers on his desk, his mind whirling. He'd just been told by the King that he was to be the interim Lord Chancellor. It had been strongly implied that if he performed well, the 'interim' would be dropped from the title. Which meant… He'd done it. He'd finally done what he set out to do when he managed to find himself in Cardinal Wolsey's service. He'd risen high enough that now, as long as he was careful, he would be secure permanently. It was a long way from Putney.

And it meant that, given the opportunity, he would be in a prime position to make things even better for Protestants in this country. Things were already much better than they had been, and he attributed that to the Lady Anne. Apparently the rumors of her Protestant leanings had not been just stories, especially since he was relatively certain he'd seen her companion, the Countess of Surrey, with a French Bible even before the English ones had been allowed.

He still had not approached her, however. And he did not intend to anytime soon. In the years since he'd first considered seeking the handmaid's assistance, he'd observed some things. Chief among those was something that, apparently, most of the dunderheads at court had completely missed. Everyone assumed that Queen Katherine and Lady Anne were on terms of quiet courtesy; that was, they'd come to some kind of agreement because everyone knew that the King would never do so. He would just expect everyone to fall in line with his wishes.

But in his opinion it was more than that. Somehow, the two women were actually friends. And while he didn't have anything against the Queen personally, she was a devout Catholic. Perhaps Lady Anne, with her place in the royal family, could run the risk of angering the Queen for her reformist leanings. But to Cromwell… it could be trouble. And because of the friendship between the two women, he intended to leave Lady Anne well alone. If they became allies, it would be noticed eventually, and possibly by the wrong people.

He shook the thoughts off. Right now that wasn't the most important thing. What was important was doing this new job efficiently, ensuring that the King would be happy to keep him in this position on a more permanent basis. He was lucky; yes, there were new laws on the books, but nothing serious was going on. Assuming that there was no uproar over the change in heresy statutes or some other matter, doing this job well would be easy. If there was… Well, it would be more challenging, but he'd always enjoyed challenges.

* * *

There wasn't really any reason for Kate to prefer the French Bible Anne had given her to the English copy she now owned, but she did. She supposed that it was because it had been a gift, and her first chance to start learning more about a subject that intrigued her. At least now she could read it in public, instead of keeping it hidden away in her quarters.

Anne had dismissed her for a while not long before, when it became clear that she and the recently-returned Mary would be occupied with their children for a while. Kate loved the toddlers as well, but she found, now, that spending long periods of time with small children only made her want to go back to Chelsea and Nathaniel. She supposed it would get easier with time, but she missed her little son. At least she could visit him easily, but even that wasn't always enough comfort.

So she was sitting outside instead, enjoying the warm May weather. Reading her Bible might seem like a dull pastime to some, but for Kate it really was fascinating. It was as though she picked up new layers of meaning, of understanding, every time she read it. She knew that there were people, including many at court, who felt that allowing greater access to Scripture was just asking for heresies to expand, but Kate disagreed. As far as she was concerned, this could only help.

Maybe there was something to the idea of priestly interpretation. It did make sense that priests, who spent years studying matters of faith, would have levels of understanding that laypeople did not, and that they would be expected to share this. However, Kate felt that faith became more personal, and therefore more real, if people were allowed to discover what they could for themselves first. The two methods could complement each other; they didn't have to cancel each other out.

When she saw the Queen and Princess Mary approaching the area where she was seated, she quickly rose and curtsied. "Lady Surrey," Katherine said, "how are you?"

"Quite well, Your Majesty."

"How is Nathaniel doing?" Mary wanted to know. She'd received permission to briefly visit the Surrey home in Chelsea so that she could see her friend's new baby, and had been immediately charmed by the infant.

"He's doing very well, Your Highness, thank you," Kate said politely. That was when Mary saw her Bible.

"Is that a Bible in French? Where did you get it?"

Katherine's attention suddenly focused completely on her daughter and the young countess, who seemed more than a little flustered. But Lady Surrey quickly regained the composure that she'd lost, saying, "It was a gift."

"From who?" Katherine asked quietly.

Lady Surrey hesitated before answering, but finally she said, "From Lady Anne."

Katherine's eyes narrowed. "And when did she give that to you?"

"Right after Princess Cecily was born."

That was before Henry had allowed English Bibles. Technically, French Bibles had not been illegal in 1529, but they had certainly violated the spirit of the law if not the letter of it. More had said that he thought someone close to Henry was pushing the new leniency. She'd thought of Cromwell, or Cranmer, but never Anne. It felt as though she'd been betrayed. And it hurt, a lot more than she would have expected it to. But that was soon overshadowed by anger. What did the woman think she was playing at?

Katherine beckoned a page over. "Find Lady Anne Boleyn," she said icily. "Tell her I wish to see her in my apartments immediately." And then, without so much as another word to Lady Surrey or even her daughter, Katherine swept back inside, leaving two confused and worried young women behind.


	25. Power Plays

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 24 – Power Plays:**_ The look on the page's face was Anne's first warning. Katherine didn't often lose her temper, but when she did, that worried look was the normal reaction. The worst of it was, Anne didn't even know what was going on. She didn't know if she was the reason Katherine was upset – and if she was, why? If it was someone else… Well, that would be easier to deal with, but didn't lessen the mystery.

"Please, my lady, she said she wanted to see you straight away," the page said worriedly.

"Right, I'm coming," Anne said absently, standing up.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Cecily wanted to know.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just have to go talk to Mary's Mama for a while, all right? Aunt Mary will stay, though," she added. Mary looked as though she might protest, but a sharp look from Anne silenced her. Whatever was going on, she didn't think it would be a good idea for her sister to go along. If she hadn't given Kate a few hours to herself, she'd have said the same of her. It was likely best if this conversation was held in private.

She told the page that he didn't have to guide her, she knew the way herself, but he said it was his duty to accompany her, especially as she was otherwise unattended. Anne almost laughed, despite her concern. She'd found, over the years, that servants sometimes actually became even more wedded to the social order than nobles did. So she didn't press further, deciding not to upset the boy by telling him not to do what he perceived as duty.

Instead she let her mind wander while walking. She almost stopped dead when a stray memory popped into her mind. Henry had said that he was signing the new heresy statutes into law. Though if that was what this was about… How did Katherine know she had anything to do with it? She didn't think Henry would admit to it, but… He could have said something in passing, she knew, or someone else might have suspected something and mentioned it.

Or this could be about something else entirely, and she was worrying about the new laws for nothing. She'd find out soon enough in any case, so worrying about it now wasn't doing her much good.

* * *

"I told you he wouldn't take it well," Brandon said mildly. Even though he knew the comment was more likely to send his wife into an even greater fury than it was to calm her down, he couldn't help it.

Margaret glared at him. "He has no right to scold me like a child!" she exploded.

"Why not when you've been acting like one?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me. Losing your temper because you don't like your brother's taste in women is childish. You've been acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and you're lucky that all Henry has done is yell at you. It could be a lot worse, and if you were anyone but his sister it likely would be. Even that relationship won't count forever."

Margaret rolled her eyes. "You've said this before, Charles. Unless you have some new point to make, stop. It's aggravating."

"There's going to be a banquet in three weeks to welcome the Imperial envoys," he said, ignoring that. "You know that one of the reasons why they've come is to negotiate a marriage between Philip of Spain and Cecily. I know you said that you were planning to leave beforehand, so you wouldn't have to cede precedence to Anne, but I think you should remain at court, and attend."

"I don't want – "

"We've already discussed this. _It doesn't matter_! What matters is that you make your brother think that you've learned your lesson with regards to your disapproval of Anne. The best way to do that is to show it publicly."

"I don't see why. I've said all the right things, I've promised to behave from now on. Why should I have to force myself to do something that makes me sick just thinking about it?"

"Because words aren't enough anymore! Margaret, he had to all but force you to yield precedence back when Anne was pregnant with Cecily, you refused to attend your own niece's christening or the earlier ceremony that installed Anne as handmaid – "

"That was different. We couldn't have made it back in time."

"You know that if we'd tried, we could have. But I decided not to fight with you about that, because I hoped it would give you time to calm down. Clearly, it didn't. So now I am going to push this, because it's time that you grew up. We have to play this game, and we have to play it well, because your attitude has already hurt us both. And anything that hurts us hurts Edward, remember that."

"I know that, Charles, you've been saying it for a long time now."

"I wish you'd act as though you understand," Brandon muttered.

Unnoticed by either of the two, a maid finished straightening up in the outer room of their apartments. Idly she wondered if the Duke and Princess were aware that she could hear every word that they were saying. Probably not, or they wouldn't be saying half the things that she'd heard them say. Honestly, why was it that nobles seemed to think that servants were part of the furniture?

As for what she'd heard, well, it was probably just the temperamental Princess blowing off steam. But she'd heard the rumors among those who'd been with the Princess in Portugal, about how the King had died very quickly after the marriage. Some people suspected he'd been helped to his grave, though of course such things were only spoken of in whispers. But if it were true… The implications were certainly not comforting.

* * *

Katherine hadn't been this angry in a long time. It reminded her, somehow, of the very first time she'd found that Henry had taken a mistress, while she was in her first, disastrous confinement. She had not shown it at the time, but she had been furious. Furious at the crackpot doctor who swore she had only miscarried one of twins, furious at herself for believing him even when her instincts said otherwise, and furious at Henry for caring so little that she could have died in labor had the pregnancy been real.

As time went on Henry's philandering had stopped upsetting her so much. It had become essentially a fact of life; still quite unpleasant but something tolerable. But she had never forgotten just how angry she'd been the first time, because she couldn't ever remember being so upset before that. The fact that this felt similar unsettled her, only making it worse. Why should she feel so betrayed by this?

Katherine had been pacing the length of her presence chamber, having dismissed all of her ladies, but now she forced herself to stop and sit down, taking a deep breath. This was ridiculous. She was acting like someone with no self-control. She knew better than to let her emotions rule her this way. And, she reminded herself, she didn't know for sure that it was Anne behind the new laws. Just because she had a French Bible from her days in France didn't mean she was a heretic. The French King's sister was known for her Protestant leanings, and it made sense that all of the women and girls who attended her would own a French Bible.

Even if Anne was the one who had put Henry onto the path he was following, it might not be entirely her fault. Her chaplain, Cranmer, had been the Boleyn family chaplain first; he could have started teaching Anne – and likely her siblings as well – heretical ideas, which were reinforced in France. If that was the case, surely all Anne needed was to be shown the error of her ways.

Outside, Anne glanced at the still-nervous page. "Stay out here please," she said firmly. The boy nodded, and Anne left him standing in the corridor as she entered the Queen's rooms. Katherine was sitting in her usual chair, not looking toward the door, but she turned her head when Anne walked in. There was an oddly cool look in her eyes, which made Anne a little more nervous.

She dipped her usual shallow curtsey, but unlike other times, Katherine didn't wave her to a seat. So, whatever had happened was something she'd done. Wonderful. Now if she knew exactly what it was, maybe she could do something about it.

"Have you heard about the latest changes in the heresy statutes?" Katherine asked. Her voice was level, but something about her tone had Anne feeling a sudden chill. Or perhaps that was just the fact that she'd asked about the heresy laws. Apparently Anne's earlier suspicion had been correct. Not that she was pleased about that, of course.

"Yes, I have."

"And what do you think?"

"They're… quite innovative."

Katherine raised an eyebrow. "I see. So you don't think that the risk of them backfiring, of allowing heresy to grow stronger in England, is something to be concerned about?"

Anne shrugged, trying to seem casual. "I don't think that will happen. Forcing a group to stay quiet is the best way to make them slowly fade away."

"Odd. That's the exact same thing Henry said. Almost as though he was repeating what someone had told him."

"Are you suggesting that I had something to do with the changes?"

"Are you going to tell me that you didn't?"

She had a chance. She could deny it, and everything would blow over – except, that if she did that, not only would she risk Katherine finding out later, she would also have to pretend that she didn't think anything was wrong with the former statutes. "No. I don't see any reason to lie about my involvement."

Katherine's lips thinned. "Is this some ridiculous idea you picked up from Marguerite of Navarre or that chaplain of yours? If it is, it's understandable and – "

"It's not an idea I picked up from anyone! I don't need to steal other people's thoughts; I have a mind of my own, and I see no reason why priests should be the only ones who can read the Bible, or why a person should be burned to death for daring to question the way things are!"

"Those people die because they are heretics, who disobey the Church and God's law, who want to lead people into sin. Priests read the Bible because only they are fit to interpret it, having been consecrated to that duty."

"Consecrated! What about Wolsey, with a mistress and two bastards? Was he a proper keeper of men's souls? And what of the monasteries that boast fake relics? I can't say that they all are, but I know that some of them are no more real than the tales that a child's nursemaid tells."

"What of your soul?" Katherine snapped, standing up herself. "Do you even care, while you read those heretical books, that you might be consigning yourself to Hell? Did you ever consider that encouraging these ideas in Henry might damn him, and that his new laws could do the same to the English people?"

"I don't believe that the new learning is evil. It's just new. And if only priests can read the Bible, then why is it scholars and the upper classes can as well, after lessons in Latin? Clearly, the only people 'unfit' to read it are those who can't afford proper schooling – the people who are misled by such things as colored water labeled as saints' blood – and that only tells me that the reason the Church is so obsessed with controlling the Gates of Heaven is because doing so maintains earthly power!"

"I want whatever heretical books you have."

"No."

"That is an order, and may I remind you that I still outrank you."

"Why don't we bring this to Henry?" It was a low blow and Anne knew it, but she also knew that if Katherine could pull rank, she still had the greater influence on Henry, and that likely would make her the winner.

"Get out." Katherine forced her voice to be steady as she gave the order, knowing that if Anne did not leave now, whatever happened next would be something that both of them would regret. All the anger she had tried to repress was back in full force.

"Very well, Your Majesty." Anne's tone was biting and the curtsey she gave before leaving seemed more mocking than respectful. Katherine turned away, trying to reassert control over her unruly emotions. Why was it that as angry as she was, part of her felt as though she were about to cry?

* * *

Anne ordered the page boy away from her, not wanting to have even his unobtrusive companionship. She walked quickly until reaching the nearest stairwell. Once she was partway down the steps, away from any landings where she might be spotted, she leaned heavily against the wall, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

She hadn't thought about this. Somehow, when she'd been so caught up in the idea of using her position to help push reforms that would make England all but a sanctuary for free thinkers, she'd forgotten how orthodox Katherine was. And she certainly had never considered what might happen to her relationship with the Queen if the other woman ever learned that she was behind the changes.

Friendship had been all that she could ever expect from Katherine. Anne had trained herself to be happy with that, to be glad to even have that much. She was more fortunate than some, at any rate. But now… She wondered if it was worth it. She suspected that Katherine would never forgive her for this. Even though deep down she knew that the changes she'd convinced Henry to make were for the greater good, it was hard to remember that when it felt like her heart was breaking.

"_A woman can smile even when her heart is breaking."_

She remembered a woman at the French court making that observation, and she'd seen it in Queen Claude… and in Katherine. Even if things never went back to the way they were, even if Katherine saw her as an enemy forever, she would have to pretend it didn't matter. She would have to hide it, and wasn't it fortunate that she had so much practice in hiding her feelings where the Spanish Queen was concerned?

Taking a deep breath, Anne straightened up and began walking down the stairs again. But she'd only been moving for a minute or so when she felt hands on her back. Before she could turn to see who was touching her – indeed, before she could react at all – she was shoved forward. She lost her balance, and the last thing she heard before falling into darkness was her own shocked cry bouncing off the stone walls.

A/N: I'm going to die again, aren't I? I think I'm very glad that the only person on this site who knows where I live doesn't read this…


	26. Waiting Game

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 25 – Waiting Game:**_ If Anne's fall had not been an accident, if someone had pushed her, they were going to pay. Brandon had never seen Henry this angry before. But then, his friend had lost a child – the boy he'd been craving, no less – and may yet lose a woman he'd loved. Apparently Anne had hit her head when she fell, and Dr. Linacre could not tell if she was going to wake up. Brandon knew that if something like this had happened to Margaret, whether she was carrying their child or not, he would cheerfully have strangled the person responsible.

"I want to know if someone pushed her, Charles," Henry said, his voice cold with anger. "I'm putting Cromwell on it, but… He's new to his job, I don't know if it's wise to have him doing this alone. I want you to be just as involved with the investigation. I need people I trust in charge of this."

Brandon bit his tongue so that he wouldn't complain about working with the jumped-up tavern owner's son. He hated Cromwell, but he knew better that to argue. Besides, this way he could keep an eye on the other man; his resentment didn't stem so much from Cromwell's rise – Brandon was self-aware enough to know that his own rise was rather similar, even if he had started out with better blood – as the fact that he simply did not trust the man. Cromwell struck him as the sort who would smile and act your friend even as he slipped a knife between your ribs, assuming it served his purposes to do so.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'll go meet with Master Cromwell now."

"Thank you, Charles."

It was a relief for Henry to know that his oldest friend was on his side in this. It was odd, but part of him almost hoped that someone had pushed Anne. If this had been an attack, it gave him someone to blame. If it truly had been an accident… He thought of Anne, pale and still in her bed, with no sign that she would wake. He didn't want to blame her if it had been an accident. It would be tempting… but no, if it had been a fall, then surely it was just ill luck, nothing more. It couldn't be anything more than that, he told himself. God, he hoped he would have someone to blame, because this uncertainty had him feeling helpless. He hated that.

Something occurred to him then. If this was an attack…. Likely it was Anne who was the sole target; she was the one who had been pregnant with England's heir. But what if this attacker was particularly canny, and chose to hide his true motives by attacking other royals? Henry thought he was safe, personally, but his wife, his sister, his daughters and nephew, what of them?

Quickly, he ordered a page to catch up to Charles, to inform him that the first order of business should be to secure the rest of the royal family, in case the possible attacker did not stop with Anne. It was important to find out if there was someone behind this, but not at the expense of another person in his family.

* * *

Kate felt she couldn't bear staying in here any longer. She knew that Mary had to be feeling as guilty as she was. If they hadn't listened to Anne when she dismissed them, none of this would have happened. And Kate had another reason to feel guilty, one that she was afraid to share. Mary had already wondered aloud about what it was that the Queen had so urgently wanted to speak to Anne about, but Kate knew what it had been about.

Her possession of Anne's old French Bible had clearly clued Katherine in to something. What it was, Kate wasn't entirely sure. She knew that the King had made changes to the heresy laws – it had been all over the court that Thomas More had resigned his position as Lord Chancellor because of it – but she didn't know if Anne had had anything to do with it. If she did…

The Queen wouldn't have done this. Kate was absolutely certain of that. She had never been able to understand the relationship between Queen and handmaid, though she had tried many times to do so. That being said, she knew that whatever the bond was, it ran deep enough that things would never escalate to this. Still… What if they'd argued, and Anne had been distracted enough that she either fell or never heard her attacker coming? The whole mess would have begun because Kate had decided to show her Bible out where everyone could see.

"Kate?" Mary interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Can you… Someone needs to tell the family that Anne lost her baby. If you tell George, he'll take care of it."

"Wouldn't he prefer to hear it from you?"

"I'm the one who was with Anne, I was supposed to stay with her. No, I don't think George will want to see me right now."

Kate hesitated, wondering if she should tell Mary that really, it was her actions that had set all of this up. But somehow, she couldn't get the words out. So instead she just nodded and walked out, after one last look at the woman in the bed. She didn't know what would be worse: if Anne had simply had a mishap or if someone had deliberately done this. No matter what, things were going to be unpleasant around here for a while, to put it mildly.

It didn't take long to reach George's quarters, but he wasn't there. "He's with Lord Rochford, my lady," the manservant who was straightening things up told her. As soon as Kate heard that, phrases she'd heard dockworkers give voice to began running through her mind. She did not want to have to deal with Rochford right now. Knowing him, he wasn't even concerned for his daughter's health.

But she had told Mary that she would speak to George, so she turned on her heel and made her way to Rochford's quarters. When she entered, Boleyn was sitting at a desk, looking as cold as ever. George was leaning against the wall, his hair mussed from raking his fingers through it. "Katherine," Boleyn said icily. Kate managed not to scowl at the use of her full name – everyone knew she went by Kate because there were simply too many Katherines about – and turned to George, addressing him instead of the elder Boleyn. It was rude, but she didn't care right now. As far as she was concerned, Boleyn didn't have a right to information on his daughter.

"Anne lost the baby," she said. "It was a boy, but the King… He seems convinced that someone attacked her."

George winced. "At least that means he won't be blaming her."

"Unless it turns out that Anne was just being a fool again, wandering around when she should have been keeping to her rooms," Boleyn put in acidly.

"Anne would have been extremely careful not to fall, Father. She's never been clumsy, not even during pregnancy. I don't think she would have fallen without someone 'helping' her."

"Has the doctor said anything about whether or not this marriage has left Anne infertile?" Boleyn asked, ignoring his son's comment and directing the question at Kate.

"She hasn't even woken up yet, Lord Rochford, don't you think such questions are premature?"

George pushed off from the wall and came to stand next to Kate, worried that his young cousin's refusal to answer the question would cause trouble for her with his father. Sure enough, the older man was studying Kate with the same narrow-eyed expression he usually reserved for his children. "I did not ask if she was awake, I asked if the doctor knew whether or not this miscarriage would prevent her from having more children."

"I think what Kate was trying to say, Father, is that they don't even know if Anne's going to survive, much less if she'll be able to have more children," George cut in quickly, shooting Kate a look to tell her to get out of there. Kate moved to the door, but she stopped dead at Boleyn's next words.

"If Anne dies, I already know we can try to play on Henry's grief, it's if she's infertile that I need a plan – " He didn't finish because his son's fist whipped out, colliding hard with the older Boleyn's cheek.

"I am sick and tired of hearing you talk as though we – Mary, Anne, and I – are nothing but tools for you and Uncle Norfolk to use," George said, his voice soft but somehow deadly. Kate thought that his words could not have carried more menace if he'd shouted them at the top of his lungs. "I think you need to take some time, _Father_, to remember what that title is supposed to mean."

George strode for the door and Kate quickly exited so he wouldn't collide with her. Out in the hall, her cousin studied her with dark, rueful eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Kate. I'd best go tell Uncle Norfolk, or maybe I'll tell Hal and he'll do it for me. I'm not sure I can take dealing with my uncle as well today."

"I could go," Kate offered, but George shook his head.

"No, go back to Mary and tell her that I don't want our father anywhere near Anne, even if – no, _when_ – she wakes up. Actually, I don't want Uncle Norfolk there either. The only male relatives who should be able to see her will be Hal and me."

Kate nodded. She agreed wholeheartedly with that decision. Of course, it would require the King's agreement, but she was sure that between them, she and Mary could accomplish that. Of course, if Anne didn't wake up… No. She was going to think like George and believe that Anne's waking up was a matter of when, and not if. It simply had to be.

* * *

"I'll do what Charles asks, for this one thing, but after that I'm going back to the country, because I can't always pretend that I – " Katherine cut Margaret off, not wanting to hear yet another rant. It was fortunate that her ladies were still in the outer chamber, as she'd sent them there before speaking to Anne.

"I don't want to talk about Henry's handmaid today, Margaret," she said icily. She was still upset enough that she didn't think it best to refer to Anne by name.

"Have you finally come to your senses about her then?" Margaret said with a satisfied smirk, clearly missing the point. Katherine was trying to figure out something to say that wouldn't show how angry she was – still with Anne, and now with Margaret, who simply did not know how to leave things be – when one of her ladies interrupted.

"Your Majesty, the Duke of Suffolk is here."

"Send him in," Katherine said, immediately diverted. A glance at Margaret showed that she hadn't been expecting her husband to pay a visit, which raised Katherine's suspicions. Brandon wasn't exactly a common visitor to her apartments, which meant something was going on.

Brandon entered, and after making the proper bow and greeting to Katherine, turned to his wife. "Margaret, once I'm done explaining things, you're to come back to our quarters with me, and you and Edward have to stay there until further notice."

"What? Why?"

Brandon took a deep breath before addressing both women. "There is reason to believe that members of the royal family could be in danger. Lady Anne was found two hours ago on the stairwell that leads off from the corridor outside these rooms. We don't know yet if she just fell or if she was pushed, but the King wants a full investigation as if an attack was already confirmed. He also wants to be sure that everyone else in the family is safe, so there will be extra guards here, at the nursery, Princess Mary's quarters – "

"And ours," Margaret cut him off. "But how is it that we don't know if this was an attack or Anne was just clumsy? Didn't she say?"

Katherine had been wondering that herself, but for some reason she couldn't seem to form the words. So she was grateful that Margaret had asked.

"When they found her, she was already unconscious, and so far efforts to revive her have been unsuccessful. Dr. Linacre told the King that all anyone can do now is wait to see if she'll wake up on her own or if she won't wake up at all." Focusing on Margaret again, he continued, "We really need to leave. I'm supposed to be heading up the investigation – along with Cromwell – so I need to get you back to our rooms."

"I can travel alone, I'm not an invalid. Besides, why would I be a target? If someone attacked Anne, obviously it was to kill her child. I'm assuming they succeeded, if she's that badly injured."

"Yes, they did, and even if that's true, Margaret, a clever man – or woman, even – might decide to attack someone else in the family just to hide their real intentions!"

"Margaret, your husband is right, and you really should just cooperate. It will make things easier on all of us," Katherine put in. And I don't want to witness one of your marital battles right now, she added silently. She just wanted – no, needed – for them to leave, because although she'd felt oddly numb since Brandon had explained just what was going on, she had a feeling that it wouldn't last.

"Oh, all right," Margaret said irritably. "Fine, Charles, let's go then. And why has my brother put you with Cromwell? Does he want to have one of you murder the other?"

Katherine didn't hear Brandon's response, as the door closed behind them before the duke could respond. For several moments she just sat there, still feeling that curious detachment. But then, slowly, it receded, as Brandon's words rang in her head.

_"Lady Anne was found two hours ago on the stairwell that leads off from the corridor outside these rooms."_

That meant it had been right after Anne had left – no, after she'd ordered the younger woman to go. If she hadn't done so, then if Anne had been attacked, her assailant would not have had the chance to do so. If she'd simply fallen… It wasn't like Anne to be clumsy. Either way, it had happened right after she'd left Katherine, and that…

Katherine found that she was shaking slightly. Why? Why was this affecting her so much? Yes, she and Anne had been close enough to be considered friends these past few years, even with this latest disagreement. It was just, Katherine had been sure that once they had both calmed down from their argument, they could discuss the matter again more civilly. She had told herself that all Anne needed was to understand the error of her ways, and she would be willing to listen to the younger woman's reasoning if only so that she could explain where it was in error.

She hadn't wanted things to remain unpleasant between them for long. It could only hurt them both. It wasn't smart for them to be at odds, not when it was up to them to keep peace in the royal family. Henry certainly wouldn't try, if she and Anne were feuding he would side with her and that might be trouble for Mary as well as Katherine herself…

Her thoughts were racing, and if she were speaking aloud she felt sure that the words would get muddled. Why was she trying so hard to think of the rational reasons why she didn't want to have things so wrong between her and Anne? Why did the thought that maybe she just didn't like the idea of being at odds with the younger woman make her so nervous? And what did it matter now, what her plans had been? Anne's fall had possibly scuttled that, now that they didn't even know if she was going to survive.

That thought made her feel ill. Anne couldn't die now, not when things had ended so badly between them, not before… Before what? Her thoughts had gone from rambling to all but nonsensical. There was absolutely no reason for her to be this upset, for the thought of Anne dying now to fill her with a cold dread not unlike the time Henry had forgotten his visor in a joust with his friend Knivert, and for a moment it had seemed as though he had taken a severe injury.

Of course she'd been terrified then, but Henry was her husband, the man she'd loved for the entirety of their marriage. Why would her reaction to Anne's situation be so similar, when the younger woman was merely a friend? She didn't know, though some part of her felt that the answer was close, and when she finally figured it out, it could change everything.

* * *

Jane found herself in the chapel without really intending to go there. She'd just heard about Lady Anne's fall, and she didn't know how she felt about it. As she sank to her knees and tried to pray, she wondered what she was praying for. The soul of that unborn child, who had never had a chance to live? It was right and proper to pray for that baby. It wasn't his fault – and rumor said that the child had been a boy – that his mother was a woman with no shame, a woman who had for years flaunted her position.

Jane pushed away thoughts of Anne. She could not bring herself to pray for the woman's recovery, but neither did she want to blemish her own soul by praying that she didn't survive. It was wrong to pray for that, even if Anne's death could be seen by some as a blessing.

In fact, Jane could easily see how things would be better if Anne Boleyn did not survive. Queen Katherine would no longer be faced with a handmaid who didn't know her place, a woman who acted as though she were the Queen's equal and not a lesser woman who was lucky to have been raised by the King. Little Princess Cecily would be raised with the influence of the Queen and Princess Mary – and the King's new handmaid – becoming a proper young lady without any of her mother's faults.

And that new handmaid could be Jane. Especially now, she thought, her hand falling to her stomach. She had only just become sure today, and she had told no one – except for her brother Thomas. There was less than a year between them, and she had always been closer to Thomas than Edward. Edward would have given her that coldly speculative look of his before starting on theories of what they could get out of the child in her womb. Thomas had put his arm around her shoulders as she'd cried, hating the fact that her child was to be no more than a bastard, like ill-fated Henry Fitzroy.

But now there was hope. If Anne died, then Jane could tell Henry that she was pregnant. Surely, the idea of having a son and heir even sooner than he could have dreamed would make her irresistible to him as his new handmaid. Her child would be born as Prince of Wales, and he would be safe. His birth would not hurt the Princesses; Jane was sure that Princess Mary would welcome a little brother at last if his mother wasn't the woman who had surely been such an offense to her for these past years. As for Princess Cecily, she was too young to resent a little brother, and Jane was sure that she could find it in her to be kind to Anne's child. She wouldn't want her good fortune and her child's to bring harm on his innocent half-sisters.

She could not pray for the death of a woman, even Anne. But she could pray for her son, could she not? She could pray that he would be safe, secure, and have his full birthright as the King's child. If God saw fit to answer her prayers, well, he would do so. If it meant that someone else's fortunes would fall, then surely that was his will, and not an ill-wishing on her part.

A/N: OK, after that last scene I'm feeling a bit slimy. Such self-serving logic there… ick. I'm sorry to keep you all in suspense about Anne – don't worry, you'll know before the next chapter is out, and I think my history with characters I love should be an indicator. Investigate that history a bit and you should know how things will work out.


	27. Loyalties and Love

Disclaimer: Not mine.

First, I want to stop and thank everyone who has ever reviewed this story. I've gone over the 200-review mark (210 at last count, to be exact), which I have never accomplished before. That's thanks to you guys, so I hope you know I really appreciate it. That said, something in this chapter's been a long time coming, and while we don't have a resolution yet, we're getting there. I hope it meets your expectations.

_**Chapter 26 – Loyalties and Love:**_ Something was wrong. Mary knew that as well as she knew her own name. Even though Lady Salisbury kept saying that everything was fine, Mary knew she was lying. For one thing, her governess never managed to look her in the eye when she wasn't telling the truth - that was how, years ago, she'd learned that the rumors about her father taking a handmaid were true; she'd asked Lady Salisbury and the woman hadn't been able to meet her gaze.

Then there were the guards. Mary always had a few, because she was her father's heir until Anne was delivered of a son, but this amount was excessive. It was that which alerted Cathy. "We have to find out what's going on!" she said.

"I know," Mary replied, "but how?"

It turned out to be easier than they'd thought when an unexpected visitor arrived. "I am sorry, Lady Surrey," they heard Lady Salisbury say, "but I've not yet told the Princess or Mistress Brooke anything, and I think it best – "

"They're going to be wondering what's going on, and they're fifteen, Lady Salisbury. I'm sure they can handle it." A pause, then: "I have the King's permission."

And at that, Mary's governess gave in. She had no choice. If Kate had the King's permission to come and speak to Mary and Cathy, she couldn't stop her. When Kate came into the girls' view, their suspicions were confirmed. Something was definitely wrong, judging by how pale and drawn Kate looked. They ended up in Cathy's bedchamber – it wasn't exactly respectful to have gone to Mary's. Once there with the door shut, all the normal protocols dropped. Mary and Cathy immediately sat down on the latter's bed, with Kate taking the chair next to it.

"What's going on?" Mary wanted to know. Kate sighed.

"It's Anne," she said finally. "She fell down the stairs near your mother's apartments."

"Is she all right? What about the baby?" Cathy asked.

"The baby didn't survive. As for Anne herself, no one knows yet if she's going to pull through."

Mary shook her head. "Papa must be so upset, and I don't see Mama taking it too well either… What about Cecily? Has anyone said anything to her?"

"I don't know what Lady Bryan will have told her," Kate admitted.

Cathy's eyes were narrowed. "Did Lady Anne fall or was she pushed?" Mary gave her friend a startled look, but Kate only eyed the girl grimly.

"That's something else that no one knows yet," she said bluntly.

"So that's what the extra guards are for?" Mary wanted to know. "In case someone attacked Anne but decides not to stop with her?"

Kate nodded. "I don't think that will happen, but of course the King is right to be so cautious."

Cathy was oddly quiet, but Mary pounced on the question of an attack. "But who would have done this, if Anne was attacked?"

"I don't know, Your Highness, though…" Kate shook her head, trailing off.

"Though what?" Mary pressed.

"Someone I overheard on the way here thinks it might have been the Seymours, because Mistress Jane Seymour is…"

"Papa's mistress, yes, I know," Mary said, trying valiantly to conceal her disapproval. Her father had a wife and a handmaid, why did he need a mistress? And men liked to claim that women were the ones who were insatiable in matters of the bedroom! If that were the case, it would be wives taking lovers and breaking their husbands' hearts, instead of the reverse. But it wasn't her business if her father behaved that way, nor was it her place to question her father, so she pushed the thought away. "But do you think the Seymours could be behind it, Kate?"

"Honestly? I don't know. They certainly had motive, and if Thomas Seymour was the elder brother, I would say yes, but Edward Seymour is not a fool, and I don't think he'd condone murder unless he was sure that it couldn't be traced back to his family. He wouldn't do something like this, nor would he order it done."

"Is there anyone else?" Mary asked. Kate hesitated, looking extremely uncomfortable, and Cathy spoke up.

"They suspect Princess Margaret, don't they?" she asked quietly.

"I've heard speculation that suggests her, yes," Kate said. "And also… They don't think the Queen would, but some were wondering if the Spanish ambassador might, on his master's orders, so that the next ruler of England is you, Princess, and someone who is a relative to the Emperor."

"I don't think Chapuys would do that," Mary said, "and certainly not with our knowledge. Aunt Margaret… Surely she wouldn't actually hurt Anne? She doesn't like her, but I don't think she would do something like this."

"Neither do I," Kate admitted, "but some people do. Honestly, I'm not sure who would do this. I mean, I can think of those who might benefit, but it was such a risky move to make, that it doesn't seem worth it. I mean, trying to murder anyone this way…"

"What if they were just trying to make her miscarry?" Cathy asked.

"No," Mary said immediately. "That would make it even more foolish. If the intention wasn't to kill Anne, but just to make her lose her baby, then she'd be perfectly capable of saying she was pushed, and Papa would never rest until he learned who did it."

Kate stayed quiet as the two younger girls went back and forth, trying to work things out. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Mary and Cathy were fifteen and sixteen now. She had only been a year older than Mary, and the same age as Cathy, when she'd first come to court. But there were times that she – and everyone, she suspected – still looked at these young women and saw little girls. But they weren't, and she was glad that she'd sought permission to tell them what was going on. Now she was just worried about Cecily. The little girl loved her mother, and would surely notice when Anne didn't come for her usual visit later that night.

* * *

The Princess and her friend were not the only ones hard at work trying to find out what had happened. Cromwell studied the Queen's young page, who quailed under the force of his gaze. "I swear, sir, I don't know what happened!"

"Why don't you tell us what you know… Matthew?" Brandon cut in, his voice soothing.

"The Lady Anne left the Queen's apartments, and she told me I was not to accompany her to… wherever she was going. I assumed she would want to go back to the nursery, where she'd been before. One of the Queen's ladies came to the door and I was summoned inside again. A decanter of wine had fallen over in the Queen's room, and I was to help the maids clean up the mess. It took some time – somehow the wine splattered the wall. It must have taken a good twenty minutes, my lords," the boy explained, trembling.

Cromwell and Brandon exchanged looks. According to the report given by Lady Rosalia Willoughby, who had returned to the Queen's chambers late enough to see Anne start down the staircase but not in time to see an attacker, Anne had gone straight for the stairs after leaving Katherine. This was borne out by the other women, who said that Lady Willoughby arrived only minutes after Anne left.

It was a dead end. The maids had already confirmed the boy's story, and Katherine herself was not a suspect. They'd briefly considered Chapuys, but he'd been at the other end of the palace, talking to the Earl of Northumberland. It occurred to Cromwell that only one of the Queen's ladies was unaccounted for, and he brought it up once the boy had left. "Where was Mistress Seymour when Lady Anne was pushed?" he asked.

Brandon frowned at him. "You don't already have it in your notes?"

"Well, I might, Your Grace, but I thought you would be able to remember that."

"I could say the same."

Turning so that the Duke wouldn't see him roll his eyes – it wouldn't be wise to antagonize the King's brother-in-law and best friend – Cromwell began searching his papers. "Ah. She was in her chamber in the Queen's wing, not far from the stairwell, as it happens. Her maid apparently reported her ill this morning. She seems to have been in there alone, with only a brief visit from her brother – at about the same time as the Lady Anne was visiting the Queen."

Brandon frowned. "Do you really think the Seymours would risk it? It's quite a gamble, for an uncertain gain. I somehow don't think Henry would make his mistress his new handmaid if something happened to Anne – how could he trust that a woman who had already been unchaste wouldn't do so again?"

"Hmm. Still, I think it would be best if we spoke with Mistress Seymour and her brother," Cromwell observed.

So they brought in Jane and Thomas – separately, of course – and both of them claimed no knowledge of what had happened. Jane said that she didn't know precisely when her brother had been there, only that it was roughly the same time as Anne's fall. She was fairly certain her brother had still been in her room when the Lady was discovered. Thomas swore on his family's good name that he hadn't touched Anne. Brandon almost laughed outright at that one – despite the seriousness on Seymour's face, the family name was hardly a good one after the antics of Sir John and his former daughter-in-law.

"Well," Cromwell said silkily after Seymour had left, "I suppose this leaves us with only one real suspect." Brandon didn't like the other man's tone, and he really didn't like Cromwell's smug smile…

"Who exactly are you referring to?"

"Why, your wife, of course. Princess Margaret. Everyone knows that she despises Lady Anne, and that she has a son who could, conceivably, try for the Crown one day. One of the palace maids, in particular, seemed troubled by some of the things she overheard Princess Margaret say."

It took all of Brandon's self-control not to strangle the man then and there. Good God, if Henry thought even for a second that he and Margaret had planned this together, he was dead. Although, he probably wouldn't have to wait that long. Margaret would kill him as soon as she was brought in for questioning.

* * *

This was absolutely impossible. It couldn't be right. It just… couldn't. She wasn't in love with a woman; that would be a grievous sin! More than that, she loved her husband; she'd always loved Henry and she'd never loved anyone else. This simply could not be happening.

Had Katherine been more aware of her own thoughts, the sheer hysteria of them, the wild rush to deny her sudden realization, would have been proof enough that the conclusion she had reached was true. Somehow, though she could not pinpoint how or when or even why, the same thing had happened to her as Henry. As impossible as it seemed, as much as she wanted to tell herself that she couldn't possibly feel this way, she had somehow fallen in love with Anne Boleyn.

As it was, it still only took her a short time to realize what her sudden panic meant, and had she not already been on her knees before her prie-dieu she might well have found herself forced to them by the weight of this revelation. How could this have happened? She'd never thought it possible, to be attracted to someone of the same sex, but suddenly a thousand little things about Anne, things that had never made sense before, seemed to suddenly become understandable. The way she had found that the same mysterious, exotic quality that she knew would entice Henry had seemed to draw her as well, the way she had always remembered those pale blue eyes filled with compassion on the night Henry celebrated the birth of his bastard son. And, of course, her almost unreasonable anger on Anne's behalf when, slowly but surely, it had become clear just how cruel of a father Thomas Boleyn was.

The pieces were falling into place, little things that had bothered her for a long time, and it was the final proof she needed to tell herself that the stray thought that she'd had – _If anyone were to guess, they would think I was the one in love with Anne, not Henry_ – was more true than she'd suspected. But that still didn't explain it. It still didn't explain how she, a devoted Catholic, had managed to tumble into sin like this. The Bible forbade…

Except, actually, it didn't. It never mentioned two women together, and neither did Church law. Sodomites – men who carried on affairs with other men – were banned by Bible and law, but women were never considered. But still, she did not imagine that anyone who had studied either theology or law would think that a reasonable argument. It did, however, bring her a measure of comfort. If God had not actively prohibited it, then perhaps it was not as sinful as she had thought.

Or perhaps there was a reason for it, a painful one. After all, even if Anne survived her accident – and the thought that she might not actually made Katherine feel ill – she would never reciprocate these strange, unexpected feelings that Katherine had discovered in herself. So perhaps, as much as she didn't want to think about it, perhaps this was some kind of punishment. She had been deceitful, tricking Henry into thinking Anne was his choice and no one else's. She had never confessed it, for fear that she might be ordered to tell Henry as her penance. Yes, she had acted as she had for her daughter's sake more than her own, for fear of what Henry might do otherwise and what it could mean for her daughter's place, but it was still not right. And therefore, she found herself in the same trap that she had intended for Henry; loving Anne.

Finding reasons for this didn't make it easier, though. Because now that she had finally realized just what Anne meant to her, she was suddenly terrified that things were going to end here. She was afraid that the younger woman would never wake up, and she wasn't sure she could face that possibility. Obviously, she did not intend on telling Anne of her feelings – that would not be wise – but they had parted on such bad terms… She couldn't bear the thought of Anne dying with their last exchange having been so angry, almost hateful in some ways.

She was not willing to embrace heresy, not even for Anne's sake. But surely she could have listened, tried to find out why Anne felt as she did, rather than simply getting upset. There had to have been a better way to handle the situation.

_"I don't need to steal other people's thoughts; I have a mind of my own!" _

Had that really been what she'd done? Assumed that Anne had merely been tricked and all she needed was a nudge in the right direction? She should have known better. In the years since she'd first met Anne, there had never been a time when the other woman had not had good reasons for what she did or thought. Perhaps her reasoning was flawed – if it led her to give credence to heresy, it had to be – but Katherine should have known that Anne's opinions would be carefully thought out. She might be wrong, but it would always be possible to see why she thought as she did.

She'd forgotten that and simply assumed that Anne had no idea what she was talking about. It had been a mistake, and it might well have been a terrible one. Because if Anne died now, they would never have a chance to revisit this subject, to possibly come to some kind of understanding. And somehow, Katherine wasn't sure she could bear that.

* * *

"It's been two days," George whispered, his voice shaking. "I don't… I want to tell myself she'll be all right, that she'll wake up and be my bright, enchanting, maddening little sister, just like always, but with every day it gets harder to believe."

"Shh," Mark said gently, leaning against the other man comfortingly. "Anne's a fighter, she always has been. She'll be all right."

"It's not just her! Mary's blaming herself, and at the same time I think she's found someone to comfort her when she cries and it scares me because if Father finds out he'll destroy her. And my father… God. I knew he didn't see us as his children anymore, but when he said he knew more about how to handle it if Anne was dead rather than infertile… I punched him, but I could have killed him. How can he care so little? Is it that we were so terrible as we grew, so unworthy of his love that he just stopped caring? That he began to see us as nothing more than tools?"

Mark could only listen, murmuring soothing words – though even he wasn't sure what he said – and running a soothing hand up and down his lover's back, hoping to take some of the pain away. In a broken voice, all of the things George had kept bottled up spilled out. How Anne was still loyal to Katherine, considered her a very good friend, and so George worked very diligently to keep his father from hurting the Queen. How he was afraid that Anne wouldn't have a son and that she would lose her little girl, surely breaking her heart. He talked about Mary, how he wanted so much to see his older sister happy again, like she had once been, and yet he feared that happiness, because it could be used against her. But mostly he talked about his father, and how he hated being nothing more than a chess piece in a game as far as Thomas Boleyn was concerned.

Mark's jaw tightened in anger. Personally, he had been thrilled when George told him about punching his father. Rochford had never been someone Mark liked. He cared too little for his children. Mary was sweet and never acted resentful toward those who mocked her for her dishonorable past. She just laughed at their barbed jokes and kept on her way. Then there was Anne: brilliant, entrancing Anne, who even drew someone like him, a man who had never had much interest in women. And George… Well, he was likely biased, but he could not see how anyone might fail to love George.

"It will all come right," he whispered in George's ear before he began to kiss down the other man's neck, hoping the distraction of physical pleasure would chase away the pain for a time. It was all he could do – he was no miracle worker to give Rochford a heart of flesh instead of stone, or to make Anne wake up. But what he could do he would do. Wasn't that what love was about?

* * *

"So I'm to tell your uncle no change?" the dark-haired gentleman asked. William Stafford was one of the men in her uncle's train, and Mary quite liked him. After George and Kate had spoken to the King, getting him to ban her father and uncle from visiting Anne, Stafford had been sent every few hours to check on Anne's progress.

Even though he had always been kind to her – she remembered him trying to comfort her when he'd been among those escorting her to William Carey's funeral – she held back the tears that threatened to choke her when she told him that nothing had changed. She had to; he held such compassion in his warm blue eyes that if she let any trace of her worry show, she would likely burst into tears and not stop.

He seemed to sense that, because he nodded and left, though not before he said, "I keep your family in my prayers, especially your sister. I hope all works out." It was all that she could do to nod in response.

The fact was that every hour which passed without Anne so much as stirring made it less and less likely that she would ever wake up. The King came more than once a day – he was here now, in fact, sitting with Anne – and the Queen sent someone twice a day to check on Anne's prognosis. But there was never anything new to report, never any sign that Anne might soon wake.

Coming back inside, she picked up her sewing again. Kate, who had been reading instead – the blonde woman despised sewing – glanced up. "Stafford?"

"Yes," Mary said.

"I suppose there are worse people to send."

"At least Uncle and Father have stopped trying to bully their way in."

"Exactly my point."

In the bedchamber, Henry could hear the quiet murmur of Lady Carey's and Lady Surrey's voices. It was oddly comforting, to know that he was not alone in waiting for Anne to wake up. They might not stay in here when he was there, choosing to give him privacy, but they too waited to see when things would change.

"You know, sweetheart, we're all waiting for you to open those eyes of yours. I'm not angry, about the baby. I know that even if you just fell, you never would have wanted this to happen. It's all right, it's just ill luck. We'll be able to try again, and this time have our son, if you just wake up," he told her, his grip tightening on her hand, which he held in both of his.

He kept talking to her, promising that he would get to the bottom of what happened, one way or another, telling her that their daughter needed their mother. If she wouldn't wake up for any other reason, he thought, if there was any possibility she heard him she would certainly wake up for their child's sake.

But she didn't. She just lay there, and finally Henry could stand it no longer. He rose from the chair and turned to go, before he lost control of his emotions completely. But just as he was about to cross the threshold, a small sound behind him made him freeze. Spinning around, he saw that Anne's eyelids were fluttering.

"Anne! Anne!" he called, running back to the bed and taking his seat again, gripping her hand once more. Her eyes opened, only halfway, and she seemed to be trying very hard to focus.

"How… stairs…?"

"You were found on the landing, sweetheart," he said. "You fell. Don't you remember?"

"Didn't fall… Someone shoved… My head, it hurts…" Her eyes slid shut again, but she curled up the way she so often did when she was sleeping naturally, instead of continuing to lay flat on her back as she had been, and so Henry thought that it was safe to start hoping that she would be all right.

That hope was all but smothered, though, in the fresh wave of rage that filled him. So someone had pushed Anne. How dare they, and how could they possibly think that they would ever get away with it? He would make sure that whoever was responsible for this was found, and that they paid dearly.

* * *

Over the next few days, Anne slipped in and out of consciousness. Dr. Linacre had claimed it was to be expected, and that it was a much better situation for her to be in. This way, when she was awake they could make her take some food and drink, thus helping her to begin building the strength she would need to heal. He had given them all strict orders not to tell her what had become of her child yet. Luckily, she had not yet been fully alert, and so had not asked.

However, despite the optimistic prognosis, Henry had become a man driven. Initially he had hesitated when Cromwell had asked permission to question Margaret, but now he allowed it with no qualms. He did not like to think that Margaret would be capable of murder, but she was known to hate Anne. Charles was not, and he was sure he could trust his friend. The fact that he was not so certain of his sister scared him, but it was true. And Margaret had brought it on herself with her behavior.

But she did not see that, which was why, after having been interrogated by Cromwell, she was in a towering rage. Charles hadn't even bothered to defend her when Cromwell had dared to push her, wanting to know exactly where she'd been. Perhaps his presence had made the new Lord Chancellor less rude than he might have been, but not by much.

In the privacy of their quarters – after checking for servants – Margaret hissed, "How could you do that! How could you let him treat me that way?"

Charles just scowled at her. "And what do you think would have happened if I had defended you? All I would have done is made us both look more suspicious! And don't glare at me like that; this is all your fault."

"Mine? How is it my fault that you and Cromwell are so terrible at investigating that you think I did this?"

"You're the one who's never bothered to hide your contempt for Anne. God, I told you and told you; it would come back to haunt you if you didn't try to behave. And now look! Of course you're the prime suspect, you're the only one everyone thinks just might be brazen enough to do it?"

Margaret stared at him, more hurt than she wanted to let on. Surely he didn't… "Are you saying you think I did this? That I'm capable of this?"

"I know you're capable of murder," he pointed out softly. "As to whether or not you hate Anne enough to kill her, that I don't know. Did you do it?"

She hadn't realized he could still hurt her like this. She had thought his constant dalliances had left her so jaded he could no longer hurt her, but she'd been wrong. "I wouldn't," she told him coldly. "If nothing else, she's not worth killing. So little satisfaction for such a great risk. But more than that, she was pregnant! God, Charles! I might not like the idea of her future son on my father's throne, I might not like that her daughter is a Princess, but I wouldn't wish death on anyone's child, even hers! I have a child of my own – your child – and I could not bear to lose him; I wouldn't wish that on anyone, even her!"

She turned and stormed away from him, into the bedchamber. She didn't know if she was going to cry or scream, and she did not want him to see either reaction. Charles, for his part, just watched her go. The fact was, he had argued with Cromwell, told him that he knew his wife couldn't have done this, but deep down he hadn't been sure. He knew she'd killed the King of Portugal, just as he was aware that he carried some of the guilt for that murder. But he hadn't thought much of it then, hadn't blamed her for what she did. He'd been too thrilled to have her, truly have her, to care. Besides, from what he could tell, the 'consummation' of her first marriage had been rape in all but name. He hadn't liked the thought of that filthy old man with his hands on her, so his death had meant little.

But it had regained some meaning now. He knew she'd killed once, and it made it easier to think that she might do so again. But the pain in her voice just now, that convinced him. She hadn't done it, and he had hurt her badly with his doubts. Before, he had questioned her innocence; now he wondered if his previous uncertainty had destroyed what remained of the love they had shared.

* * *

Jane had finally decided it was time to tell Edward that she was with child. Surely he would know what to do now. Anne had woken up, putting an end to Jane's half-formed hopes that she might take the other woman's place and so allow her child to be legitimate. Thomas had said that there was still a possibility that she might not live. She wasn't staying awake long, or so the rumors said, and Thomas suggested that she still might slip away. But Jane couldn't count on that, so she would go to Edward. He always knew what was best.

But when she arrived at her brother's rooms, she stopped dead at the sound of a heated argument between Edward and Thomas.

"What, if anything, were you thinking?" Edward snarled. "I told you to wait!"

"I saw a chance and I took it," Thomas shot back smugly.

"Good God, you're a bloody idiot! She was pregnant with a son. Do you really think the King is going to give up before he finds out who did it? She woke up and told him she was pushed, and that was all he needed to hear!"

"It doesn't matter if she knows she was pushed. She didn't see me, and besides, Cromwell and Brandon already cleared me. I've gotten away with it."

"That doesn't change the fact that it was quite possibly the stupidest thing you've ever done! Everyone knows our sister is the King's mistress; that makes us obvious suspects. Why did you do it?"

"Because Jane is pregnant!" Thomas snapped. "I did what I did because if Anne had died, don't you think Henry would have jumped at making a pregnant mistress his next handmaid?"

"Jane is _what_?"

"Pregnant, _enceinte_, with child. However you want to put it, we're going to be uncles to the King's child. I was simply trying to ensure the best possible future for that child – and for us."

Jane had heard enough. She all but fled back to the privacy of her rooms, needing a quiet place to think. Her brother had tried to kill the King's handmaid. In doing so, he had ended an innocent life before it even began. It was a horrible thing to have done, and she ought to turn him in.

And yet… He'd done it for her, hadn't he? Or rather, for the child she was carrying. He'd said so himself. For her child and for their family. How could she condemn him for that? He'd only been trying to help. Yes, he had gone about it wrongly, but he had meant well, hadn't he?

Anne didn't know who had pushed her, only that someone had. Cromwell and Brandon had already questioned her and Thomas, deciding that they weren't likely suspects. If she came forward, all that would come of it would be the complete ruin of her family, and of her unborn child. But if she kept quiet, they would be safe. Her child would not be born legitimate, but…

There had been talk, before the little boy's death, that the King had planned to make Henry Fitzroy a duke. Perhaps her child, if it was a boy, could secure a peerage from his royal father. Even if the baby was a girl, surely the King would do something for her? If she reported her brother, all chance of that would disappear.

She pushed aside the thought that someone else might pay for what Thomas had done. That wouldn't happen. Eventually Henry would give up on finding the culprit, and no innocents would be punished. Everything would settle down, and there would still be a chance for Jane's child.

Keeping quiet was all for the best, really. She was sure of it.

A/N: I'm really tired… It's 2:30 AM over here, why did I do this? Oh right, because I didn't want to lose my ideas. I just wish they didn't come so late. Anyway, I'm going to go to bed now, and hopefully not dream about being as deluded as Mistress Seymour.


	28. This Thing We May Have Started

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 27 – This Thing We May Have Started:**_ It took three days for Anne to come around fully, three days in which the people who cared about her held their collective breath, waiting to see what would happen. When she finally did wake up completely, her brother and sister were both in the room. Mary was there keeping an eye on Anne, as Dr. Linacre had ordered, while George had come to check up on them both. He wanted to know how Anne was doing, of course, but he also knew Mary; when she was worried she had a tendency to do necessary things like eat and sleep, so he and Kate made sure she did.

Anne's eyes blinked open, and she focused first on Mary, then George. "What happened?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember. "Someone, on the stairs, I think they pushed me?"

"Someone did," Mary admitted.

"Do they know who?" Anne demanded, trying to sit up. George stepped forward, putting his hands on his sister's shoulders to keep her lying down.

"No, Anne, not yet. Don't sit up yet, we want the doctor to look at you." He glanced at Mary, not needing to say a word. She nodded and took off at a run, in search of the good doctor, while George took her seat next to Anne's bed. It must have shown in his face, what he didn't want to tell her; that, or Anne already knew deep down, and just didn't want to admit it.

"George, what of my baby?"

He hesitated, and that alone told her what she needed to know, but Anne knew she still needed to hear it. "George, just tell me."

"It – he – Annamaria, I'm so sorry…"

"It was a boy?" she whispered. Mutely, George nodded. "And I lost him, didn't I? In my fall?"

George nodded again. "Anne, it will be all right. The King's not angry – well, not with you – and he doesn't think this is your fault. You still have time, there's still hope."

"But not for my child," Anne said bleakly. "I may have another; I may have ten more. But for that baby boy, there is nothing." She turned on her side, facing away from him, and nothing he could say would get her to look at him again. When the doctor arrived, she answered his questions with the shortest responses that she could, and once he had finished his examination, she turned away again.

Mary looked at George, who was about to try drawing Anne out again. "Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Give her some time, and then try. Come on." The doctor had said that Anne could be left alone if she wished, and clearly that was what she wanted. Mary thought it might actually be best anyway; it would be good for Anne to have a bit of peace while she came to terms with what had happened.

* * *

Edward Seymour sat at the small desk in his bedchamber, wishing he'd never come back to court. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be in this position now. Before, they had a lot to play for – Jane in the King's bed, Thomas as a favorite among the King's gentlemen due to his athletic talents, and himself as the _de facto_ head of the family, with the political acumen to see them rise in the world. But now…

Jane's pregnancy was the only useful card they had left, and even then it might not be enough, thanks to his idiot of a brother. Why had Thomas acted so foolishly? Wait, why was he even asking himself that? This was Thomas, after all, the younger brother who'd been nothing but a headache ever since he was old enough for his antics to be a problem as opposed to charming. In some ways, Edward understood Thomas' motives; he'd thought that with Anne Boleyn out of the way, Jane could take her place, and the child she bore would be the next Prince or Princess of England.

But why did he have to act so rashly? If he had taken this to Edward, everything could have been handled, one way or another. He could never know if he would have tried to kill Anne himself, by more subtle means, or if he would have decided to stake everything on the King being good to a bastard child, especially a son. He just wished Jane had confided in him instead of Thomas, though he had to admit that his brother's cheerful, affectionate demeanor with their sisters invited confidences in a way that his own cool reserve did not. But he would have thought that Jane had the sense to know that he was the one who ought to know things that were this momentous.

Thomas was sure that he had gotten away with it. Anne didn't see him, he said, and since she was awake now, that much had to be true or else the whole family would likely be in the Tower. Brandon and Cromwell no longer suspected him, thanks to Jane's support. Thomas claimed Jane knew nothing, but Edward wondered if their sister did not at least suspect that Thomas was responsible for what had befallen Anne Boleyn. Clearly, if she had, she had decided that holding her tongue was the wisest course of action.

The question now was whether or not he agreed. The fact was, while right now rumor said that Princess Margaret was the prime suspect, and that Ambassador Chapuys had only avoided a similar black mark because he was known to have been at the opposite end of the palace when Anne had fallen, that might not last. Incontrovertible evidence would be needed to convict Margaret, or even to charge her, and they would not have that unless she was framed. No one would dare frame the King's sister.

So should he stand with his foolish younger siblings or should he turn Thomas in, consigning him and perhaps Jane to the headsman? It might be the only way to save himself if all went wrong, and yet…

_"If you tell anyone, I'll say it was your idea." _

He believed that his brother would make good on his threat, but would it matter? Would anyone believe a traitor over the person who turned him in? They might, if they thought that he'd only turned Thomas in to divert suspicion from himself. Granted, he had his reputation on his side; he was known as someone who never acted rashly, so perhaps common sense would prevail and it would be clear that he would never condone such a rash plan, much less come up with it himself. He just didn't know, and was it worth the gamble?

"Damn you, Thomas," he muttered, real venom in his voice. Right now, he would have cheerfully throttled his younger brother if he were in the room.

"What's he done now then?" Edward's head snapped up at his wife's voice.

"Anne? When did you get here?"

"I've been standing in the doorway for five minutes. Has your idiot of a brother done something again?"

"It's of no consequence," he lied smoothly.

Anne nodded, and Edward took that as her believing him, never noticing the gleam of calculation in her eyes.

* * *

Mary was relieved when her mother didn't mind when Mary brought Cecily and Missy along when she visited that day, although she hadn't really expected her to be bothered. All Katherine had asked was why little Harry wasn't with them.

"My lord of Suffolk brought Edward to the nursery," Cathy explained, "and the boys are playing with their swords again. We decided they were happy enough where they were, and Princess Cecily and Missy weren't best pleased at being in range of their weapons."

"Harry and Edward are too loud, 'Katrin'," Cecily said seriously. Katherine had decided that it was simpler if the little girl, who was her stepdaughter as well as her goddaughter, used her first name. But Cecily seemed to have a little trouble with it, at least at the moment. Actually, the little girl's version of her name made her smile.

"Is that so? Well, sadly, boys are like that," she told the child solemnly. Cecily shook her head in clear disapproval before applying herself to the game she and Missy were playing with their dolls. Mary had apparently tracked down two of her old dolls, so that she and Cathy could join in, though they both spoke with Katherine as well. Cathy also drifted off to talk with Rosalia, who had been a semi-frequent visitor to her parents' home.

Mary came to sit with her mother again, and Katherine saw the look of worry on her daughter's face. "What is it?"

"Cecily is asking for Anne again," Mary said. "I don't know what to tell her."

"Your father said that Anne was awake," Katherine pointed out. "She's been fully alert for two days. Hasn't Cecily seen her?"

"You haven't heard?" Mary wanted to know.

"Heard what?" Katherine had actually been almost afraid to inquire about Anne, worried that, somehow, her recent revelations would show, and cause a problem.

"She's not speaking to anyone, not even Papa, Lord Hunsdon, or Lady Carey. And apparently Hunsdon and Kate – Lady Surrey – talked Papa into banning Lord Rochford and the Duke of Norfolk from seeing her, even before she woke up." Mary frowned at her mother. "You didn't know, Mama? Kate told me when I asked if I could take Cecily to see her mother. She keeps asking me where Anne is, and I don't know what to say."

Unnoticed by them, Missy had toddled over to where Cathy was speaking with Rosa, and Cecily had made her way to where Mary and Katherine sat. Now she announced her presence. "Mama? Did you see her, Katrin? Why can't I see her?"

"Oh, Cecily…" Mary whispered, picking up her little sister and holding the toddler in her lap. Katherine reached out to tuck an errant lock of dark hair back into the little girl's hood.

"No, little one, I'm sorry, I haven't. But I'm sure you'll be able to see her soon; she must miss you." It was all she could think to say, faced with a pair of large, teary brown eyes. What was there to say to a little girl who just wanted her mother?

"Aunt Mary is sad, Uncle George doesn't come to play, and Mama's gone," Cecily said sadly. "Why?"

Why indeed. Mary gave her mother a pleading look over her sister's head. Although she was now fifteen, and considered herself a young woman, no longer a child, sometimes she felt as helpless as though she were Cecily's age. She couldn't fix this, and like a little girl, she looked to her mother to make everything all right again.

As for Katherine, she saw the look, but she was already thinking that she needed to see Anne, and that she'd put it off long enough. The fact was that she knew some of what the younger woman was going through right now. She too had lost children and had felt that despair which made you want to turn away from the world. Her only consolation then had been that it was God's will, it had to be. But Anne would not have that, since her miscarriage was not a natural event, but something brought about through violence.

Katherine needed to speak to her. And as for the fear which had held her back till now, well, she would simply have to put it aside. She was a princess of Spain, trained from the cradle to hide that which she wanted no one to see. She would not have a problem, and Anne needed a friend now, someone who could understand at least some of her grief. Katherine could be that for her.

* * *

"Good God, you look horrible!" Anne informed her sister-in-law. "You really won't have a prayer of keeping the King when you look that haggard." Jane glared at her.

"Are you so sure of that?" she shot back. "You do not even know why it is that I'm ill."

No, it couldn't be, Anne thought. "Oh, well, then why?"

"I am carrying the King's child," Jane said proudly.

"His bastard, you mean. That's all he can be, since you're a mistress and not a handmaid." As the words left her mouth, a sudden, wild thought struck Anne, but she pushed it back, to dwell on later.

"Be that as it may, I am sure that the King will do right by our child, and by me."

"What, bundle you off to the first country squire that will have you? If that's what you want, I imagine it could be pleasant enough, but I'd find it boring, myself."

Jane raised her chin defiantly. "He'll make me his _maitresse en titre_, and our child will be just as loved by him as the Princesses, you'll see. If my baby is a boy, he might even be King if Lady Anne fails in her duty."

Already Anne was thoroughly sick of Jane's superiority, so she was glad when the other woman decided she wanted to lie down, as it gave her an excuse to leave. She'd called on Jane to see if she knew anything about Thomas' latest stunt, whatever it was, but she'd learned far more than she'd ever bargained for.

So sweet little Jane was pregnant with the King's bastard, and cherishing dreams of seeing her child on a throne one day. Wasn't that interesting? Not to mention that she could have only just found out, since she didn't show yet, and that her bedchamber, Anne thought as she descended the stairs, was very close to the staircase – this one – that Anne Boleyn had tumble down such a short time ago.

Jane was closer to Thomas than Edward, so it was likely that she'd tell him of her pregnancy before telling Edward. Being an impetuous fool, might Thomas have decided to try his hand at murder, so that his sister could be handmaid and her child legitimate? It seemed like something he would do, and Jane was either in on it or would be willing to support it if she knew, judging by her comments. And Edward knew, Anne was sure of that. This was why he'd been so lost in thought that his usual skills of observation had failed him when she'd arrived at their room earlier.

It was speculation, certainly, but it was enough to be very useful, if she so desired. Suddenly, Anne had a tool, something she could turn to her own advantage. But what was the best thing to do, and how would she go about doing so?

* * *

"I don't see why you're so angry, Your Grace," Cromwell said. "I am not unfairly targeting your wife. The evidence simply proves that she is at least a suspect in this tragedy, and it's no more than my duty – and yours, I might add – to be certain that she is not responsible. Being certain requires a careful investigation."

"She is my wife!" Brandon snapped. "Don't you think I would know if she was capable of that?"

"You may share a bed, but do you really think you and your wife know all there is to know of each other?" the Chancellor countered. "Unless you do know more than you're saying, and are trying to stop me from looking into Princess Margaret because I might find something incriminating."

Brandon had to stop himself from lunging forward and choking the life from the smugly smirking man in front of him, contenting himself with a hissed almost-threat. "You had best watch that tongue of yours, Cromwell, before someone decides to rip it out." He turned and stormed out of the Chancellor's office, unable to remain in there any longer. He prowled the corridors, passing Edward Seymour at one point, though he barely noticed him.

Damn Cromwell anyway! He knew it wasn't Margaret, he was simply trying to cause trouble. Now that Anne had woken up and confirmed that she had been pushed, it was imperative that her attacker be found. But there were no clues! She hadn't seen her attacker, so they were left clutching at straws. Anyone who had even the slightest reason to hold a grudge against Anne, the Boleyns – Brandon had wondered how the hell Rochford was still alive, with all the enemies he'd made over the years – or the royal family was being investigated, with no luck.

"Your Grace! Just the man I was looking for," a female voice said, with what sounded like malicious pleasure.

He spun around to see Anne Stanhope, the wife of Edward Seymour. "What do you want?" he asked irritably.

She gave him a sly smile. "I have information concerning the attack on the Lady Anne."

* * *

Katherine entered Anne's bedchamber to find it dark and gloomy, with all the curtains drawn shut. She had told Lady Surrey, Lady Carey, and the maids on duty to remain in the outer chamber, so instead of calling one of them in, she pulled them open herself. Anne stirred a bit in the bed, but did not raise her head. Katherine sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the younger woman's bed. "Anne, you have to stop this. It won't help."

Silence. "Anne, I know that this is hard – " She was cut off when Anne sat up abruptly, her red-rimmed blue eyes sparking with a sudden, wild fury.

"No you don't!" she cried, her voice rough. "You can't know what it's like. I know you've lost children, Katherine, including a little boy who did actually live to draw breath, but they weren't stolen from you! It was ill-luck, something of that nature. Someone tried to kill me, just so that my child would never be born! And I wish they had succeeded!"

"Do you? Do you really?" Katherine wanted to know.

"Yes!"

"You would be willing to leave your little girl without a mother, when the loss of your own hurt you so badly? You would leave your brother and sister, who clearly love you?" _Would you leave me as well?_ was the question that she didn't ask.

"Cecily would have Mary, and Henry, and you'd be there for her too. Mary and George…" Anne looked away. "I feel like there isn't anything left for me, Katherine, like all the hope is gone from the world."

"And that is where you're wrong, Anne," Katherine said quietly, putting a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "You're still young, and you're still alive. That means that there is still hope. It's not time to give up, not yet."

"But I… I can't… It hurts so much, and I…" Anne began to cry, harsh sobs that shook her entire body, and without either of them really knowing quite how they ended up that way, Katherine was holding her as she cried, running a hand through Anne's tangled hair and murmuring in her ear, trying to comfort her. Since she had reverted to Spanish, Anne couldn't understand it, but the cadence of Katherine's voice was soothing enough that she didn't need to know.

When she'd finally regained control, Anne drew back, suddenly remembering why she'd always avoided physical contact with Katherine where possible. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" She trailed off when she met Katherine's eyes, seeing something there that she did not quite understand.

"Don't apologize," Katherine said, shaking her head slightly, though for some reason she couldn't seem to break her gaze from Anne's. "I came here to help, and I hope that I have."

"You have, and I… I'm sorry for saying you didn't understand."

"I said not to apologize, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did… Katherine…?"

It was strange, as though they were moving in slow motion and yet too fast to think, to stop or even realize what they were doing, as somehow the slight distance between them ceased to be and their lips met.

A/N: OK, well, this is part of what you've been waiting for, right? Don't worry, there's going to be a very… enlightening talk in the next chapter, but my rationale here is that strong emotions tend to break the barriers, even when no one saw it coming.


	29. Cards on the Table

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 28 – Cards on the Table:**_ Brandon stared at Anne Stanhope for a moment, stunned, before pulling her into an empty room. He wanted no eavesdroppers.

"What do you know?" he demanded.

"First I want your promise that my testimony will protect me," she said flatly.

"Yes, yes, now what do you know, Mistress?"

"Well, earlier I overheard my husband muttering angrily about his brother. I didn't really think much of it at first, because it's Thomas, and he's always doing something idiotic and upsetting Edward. It did occur to me that there was a slight chance Thomas could have had something to do with Lady Anne's fall, but I dismissed it as a ridiculous idea. Then I went to see my sister-in-law, Jane, because if anyone would know what Thomas had done, it's her. They're very close. She didn't, but she did tell me something very interesting."

"And what is that?" Brandon said sharply.

"Apparently she is pregnant with the King's child."

Brandon froze. Henry had said nothing, and while that didn't _necessarily_ mean that he was unaware of his mistress' condition, the implications were clear. If Anne had died, Henry would have been free to take a new handmaid, and a pregnant mistress would be a tempting prospect. Before, he and Cromwell had nearly bypassed the Seymours – they seemed to have an alibi and both he and Cromwell had agreed that the risk seemed to outweigh the gains for them – but now…

This changed everything. At the time, he had thought it odd how easily Seymour declared his innocence, no hint of nervousness in his demeanor at all. He'd assumed that it was just more of the younger Seymour brother's annoyingly cocky attitude, but maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe he'd been trying to act as though he wasn't worried, because he knew he was guilty and feared that he would show it if he wasn't careful. And what about Jane? She had said she was fairly certain that her brother had been with her when Anne had fallen. Did she know, or suspect? Was she a full-fledged traitor or just a sister with a misplaced sense of filial duty?

"Why are you turning them in?" he asked the woman in front of him, feeling a little suspicious. Everyone knew that Anne Stanhope did not like her husband, and it was even suspected that she may have taken a lover. Might she have concocted this story to escape her unwanted marriage?

"I don't want to risk being dragged down with them when they're caught." Her eyes were cold, betraying no hint of discomfort at the fact that she'd just betrayed the family she had married into.

That made sense; it was what most people would do after all. He nodded briskly. "Very well. I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Where are we going?" she questioned.

"The Lord Chancellor's office, to get this all on record. If Thomas Seymour is to be arrested, everything has to be done properly, so that he can't try to claim later that he was set up."

When they arrived back at Cromwell's office, however, they received another surprise. Cromwell was seated at his desk, quill poised to begin writing, and the other man in the room was Edward Seymour. "Anne!" Edward said, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Edward," Anne shot back.

"Master Seymour was just about to tell me about his brother," Cromwell cut in smoothly.

"Funny," Brandon mused. "Mistress Seymour has already made it clear to me that we should have looked harder at Thomas Seymour." Edward stared at his wife, whose eyes were glinting with a cold satisfaction.

There was something oddly amusing about this situation, with the husband and wife staring at each other, and Cromwell's usually impassive mask slipping to show his own surprise at this turn of events. Brandon wasn't really any less shocked than anyone, though years as best friend to the King and husband to his sister meant that he hid it better. They'd gone from absolutely no leads to having a new prime suspect, with two witnesses coming forward not knowing that the other was going to do so. How very strange.

* * *

The only thing that didn't surprise Anne about the events of that day was that as soon as they broke apart, Katherine tried to leave. Honestly, Anne couldn't say that, had their positions been reversed, she wouldn't have done the same. But she wasn't in Katherine's position, she wasn't the one who could choose to leave, so she made the only choice that she could. She wouldn't have done it if she wasn't sure – absolutely sure – that she hadn't been the only one reacting to that kiss. If Katherine had simply frozen – as Anne might have expected – she would have let her go, and come up with some kind of wild excuse about the tonics she was on, or something. Anything that would let them be able to at least pretend to forget.

But the fact was that she hadn't been the only one reacting, and that meant… She was almost afraid to think about what it might mean. She'd been in total despair ever since George had told her that she'd lost her baby, and that only made this sudden flash of hope even worse. But damn it, she'd been holding back for years, and if this was the only chance she had to find out if she didn't need to do that anymore, by God she was taking it. So before Katherine could move out of reach, Anne caught hold of her wrist. "Wait."

"Anne, there's no point to this. I should not have done that, and – "

"I think you're ignoring the fact that you weren't exactly the only one involved." Anne knew that given half a chance, Katherine would be gone before anything was said; it was what she would have done, if their positions were reversed. "Please, you can't just…"

"We are friends, Anne, and you're not precisely at your steadiest right now. It would be best if we both just acted as though this did not happen. I don't want to make things any harder, I care – " She cut herself off, but it was too late. Anne, displaying all the tenacity her father would show when pursuing his ambitions, wouldn't let it go.

"Finish that sentence, please." She wasn't sure where this was coming from, this determined push to find out just what was going on. Oddly enough, she thought it was something to do with the emotional blow she'd been dealt with the loss of her child. Her defenses were down, which apparently also meant her control was weakened as well. And she'd be damned if she let this one chance go.

She wasn't sure what showed in her face or her eyes, but Katherine seemed to decide that cooperating would be simpler, at least for the moment. "I care too much. It's not appropriate," she bit out. "Now let me go, Anne."

"Fine, if you'll listen to me," Anne said, letting go of the other woman's wrist. She half-expected Katherine to just leave, but she didn't, luckily. "It's only fair, you see," she said, suddenly feeling nervous, "that I tell you that I know exactly what that's like. I care about you as well, in a way that would not be considered exactly proper. And I have for a long time; why do you think I was willing to go along with your plan three years ago?" How was it, she thought distantly, that she could feel so relieved and so absolutely terrified at the same time?

"I'm sorry, what?" Katherine said, dropping back into the chair next to Anne's bed. She looked completely floored, and Anne felt a little guilty.

"If I'm understanding you correctly, you're in more or less the same position I've been in for some time," Anne explained. "I think what just happened all but confirms my theory."

Katherine was shaking her head, not so much in denial, more from the sheer shock of all this. "We can't… This isn't… What do you want from me?"

"I don't know," Anne admitted. "I thought I would never tell you, I never let myself think about what might happen if I did. I have no idea what's supposed to happen now."

"And you think that I do? I've only just realized how I feel, and you say you've felt the same for years. I don't even know how to react to that, Anne, much less what to do next."

"I think… we should just see what happens. I don't have any idea what we ought to do, neither do you, so we might be better off that way. Do you think that might work?"

Katherine shook her head again, but Anne noticed a faint smile on the other woman's face. "Perhaps you're right. I certainly don't have a better idea, and clearly keeping silent won't work. So, we will just… see what happens, with time."

It was something. It wasn't everything, though Anne wasn't entirely sure what 'everything' was. But she had never expected even this much, and she was grateful. She had hope for something she'd given up on, and it seemed to push her grief back a little, and remind her that she still had quite a lot to hope for, even with this pain. Maybe, just maybe, it would turn out all right. She hadn't thought so, but she could believe that it might now.

* * *

Generally, Cromwell didn't waste time actively hating men like Charles Brandon. He had long since accepted that the nobles who occupied many of the important court offices would despise him for his low birth. It was pointless to resent it, so he'd simply accepted it as a fact of life and moved on. But right now, he certainly did hate Brandon.

The Duke had told him that as Chancellor it was his duty to inform the King of the breakthrough in the investigation. Brandon himself had gone to tell his wife that she was no longer a suspect. But God, he didn't want to do this. It wasn't so much telling the King about Seymour that was the problem; if it was simply a matter of identifying the culprit he would have taken the news to Henry gladly. The problem was the probable motive. He was not looking forward to telling the King that he had lost a legitimate son and nearly lost a woman he loved for the sake of a bastard sired on his mistress.

"Cromwell, what news have you for me?" Henry demanded immediately upon seeing his new Chancellor enter his office.

"Well, Your Majesty, we… That is to say, His Grace of Suffolk and I believe we have discovered who attacked Lady Anne."

"Who was it?" Henry said sharply, standing up. Cromwell took a deep breath.

"Thomas Seymour. His sister-in-law went to Brandon, saying that she suspected him, and at roughly the same time, Edward Seymour came to me to admit that his brother confessed days ago, but he was afraid to come forward because Thomas threatened to blame all of it on him."

The King was silent for a moment, digesting the news. It was clear he'd already noticed that Jane Seymour's name had been left out of the explanation thus far. The fact was, they had no proof of anything. The woman appeared to have a loose tongue, and an overblown sense of her own importance, if she was already hoping for her child to be on the throne, but they didn't know if she'd had anything to do with the attack. She had been the one to tell the younger Seymour brother of her pregnancy, but Edward swore that Thomas had not mentioned Jane, that as far as he knew she had no idea what had happened. He admitted that he hadn't asked either, but who would ask a sister something like that?

"Did Seymour say why his brother did it?"

Oh God. He had hoped that this could be put off. "Apparently, Mistress Jane Seymour is… pregnant."

The look on the King's face was cold enough that Cromwell sincerely hoped that he was never the reason for a similar expression. Wolsey had spoken of the King's anger, and warned him of it, but somehow the late Cardinal had failed to express how much worse it was when Henry wasn't yelling at whoever had angered him, but instead turned so cold that Cromwell was reminded of the most hardened among the soldiers he'd once fought beside. Those were men who could kill without flinching, or even regretting it later. He'd been able to kill without being sick, once he'd had to do so a few times, but it had never stopped bothering him. He sometimes thought it was why he'd been so drawn to religion after he returned to England. He'd been searching for some kind of redemption.

He pushed the stray thought aside and focused on the King, waiting for the storm to break. Because it would. This was Henry, and it always did.

"Are you telling me that Anne was nearly killed, that our son was stolen from us, for the sake of a bastard child got on a temporary lover?" He still wasn't yelling; his voice was instead very quiet, and that… That was much worse. Cromwell's edginess increased.

"That… seems to be the case, Majesty," he said, keeping his voice steady.

"Was Jane involved?"

"No one knows," he admitted. "Edward Seymour swore that to the best of his knowledge, his sister knows nothing, but he cannot be absolutely certain because he has not brought the matter up to her. Anne Seymour seems to think she might, but she has no proof. The Duke of Suffolk and I thought that for now, we would only arrest Thomas Seymour, and if Jane knew anything, if she was helping him, we hoped that the shock of seeing her brother taken up for treason will lead her to make mistakes. At the moment, the only one proven guilty of anything is Master Thomas."

"And what of his brother, who kept his silence for days while innocent people like my sister were accused? She was very angry, Master Cromwell, and had Edward Seymour come forward earlier, she would have had no cause to be."

"He was afraid to, Your Majesty. Thomas Seymour had threatened to claim it was all Edward's idea, and from the little I know of the man, he would do it. That does not excuse him," he added quickly when the King scowled, "but it is what he confessed to. He swore it on the Bible, that he knew nothing beforehand, and that he only stayed silent out of fear."

The King nodded. "Go." he said. "Arrest Thomas Seymour and let it be known that his brother is to be kept to his quarters. Anne Seymour can move freely. And watch Mistress Jane carefully, in case she betrays some complicity, as you and Brandon have planned. And if she does, I want to know. Immediately." Cromwell bowed and left, glad to have escaped before Henry lost control.

Alone once again, Henry wanted to go see Anne, but he knew that was a bad idea right now. He was too angry, and too guilt-ridden, for that. He did not want to upset her, not when she was so fragile right now. It couldn't do any good.

Temper flashed through him and he picked up the empty goblet on his desk and hurled it at the wall. He could kill Seymour for this, he could strangle him with his bare hands. And Jane… He'd thought Jane was like a girl from a tale, an innocent until he seduced her, an English rose so different from Anne was now or Katherine had been when they met. He'd thought himself ready for something less exotic than a Spanish princess or a French-raised beauty, just for the novelty.

Now she was carrying his child. Under other circumstances, he might have even been pleased. Even a bastard would further prove his virility, and he would have never had a woman feel any shame for bearing his child nor would he allow that child to be harmed for the circumstances of its birth. But now… His son – his and Anne's son – had been killed for the sake of that child, and Anne had nearly lost her life as well. Was Jane involved? Or had she, afraid at becoming pregnant, confided in her brother as sisters would do, never thinking he would do something so terrible?

He prayed it was the latter. If Jane had been involved, if she'd given her brother her blessing, then that would make this his fault. He would much rather believe that this was Seymour's doing alone, his own actions. Henry did not want to bear any of the responsibility, but he was the one who had brought Jane into their lives. Was it his fault anyway?

* * *

"And so that's it? You're sorry? Do you really think that's enough, Charles?"

"What do you want from me, Margaret?"

She just stared at him, wanting to… God, she didn't even know what she wanted from him anymore, except for things to be the way they were before.

_"Isn't this enough?" _

_"No… and yes. But we will come to England eventually." _

_"Marry me." _

It had been so simple then. But they'd come back to England, married in secret, and Henry had been furious. She'd never feared her brother before that moment – and she hadn't really feared him since – but in that moment, when he banished her and threatened to have Charles executed, she had been terrified of him. And in the country… That was when things had begun to fall apart, she was sure of it. And now…

It was just the bed separating them, she standing on one side, near the window, and he over by the door, but it could have been the entire ocean for all it mattered. He didn't understand what he'd done, he didn't understand why it had hurt her so much. "You accused me of murder, for no good reason. You just… followed Cromwell's lead. I could have forgiven you for that – God knows if you'd defended me he'd have been more convinced that I did it. But what I cannot understand is how you believed him! How could you believe that his ridiculous theory might have been right?"

He slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. "Do you think I wanted to believe it was possible? I didn't, but we both know why I thought it was possible. You made yourself a suspect, Margaret, and I know you too well not to have been just a little concerned! I don't know what more you want from me!"

She wanted him to be faithful, or at least be bothered to be discreet about his affairs, if he must have his whores now and again. She wanted things to be simple again, as they had been on the ship, a time that seemed to be an eternity ago now. "I don't know," she said finally. "I just don't know."

"Well, neither do I."

She shook her head. "So what happens now?"

Charles sighed, running a hand over his short-cropped hair. "It's just one more thing, isn't it? Somehow, we went wrong, and I'm damned if I know where it started."

Margaret tilted her head, trying to decide what to say next. She wasn't ready to forgive, not yet, but she was so tired of all the fighting. She thought sometimes that she could have handled the things that irritated her – like Anne Boleyn's role in the royal family – if she had been happier in the life she'd decided to forge for herself in one dramatic act of rebellion. It had all gone sour, and she could not think how to fix it. Except… "Then maybe, stop trying to figure it out, and we can just... start again. We can't make any more of a mess of things, can we?"

* * *

Thomas Seymour was alone when the guards, led by Anthony Knivert, came for him. "What is this?" he demanded, trying to sound imperious even though he knew what this had to mean. Edward, you're going to pay for this.

"Thomas Seymour, you are arrested in the King's name on charges of treason and murder," Knivert informed him coldly. Tony had never had much of an opinion on Anne either way; she seemed nice enough, and he had to respect the way she and the Queen handled their situation. God knew that while Henry thought he was responsible for the calm in the family, it had to be the women, really. But he was one of Henry's best friends, and even Brandon, who didn't like Anne much, had been angry for the sake of their friend and King. To Tony, a man who would attack a woman, especially when she was pregnant, was a man who had stooped about as low as you could go, and it made him sick.

He gestured for the guards to seize Seymour, who struggled against their grip even as he cried, "It was my brother! Whatever you're taking me up for, it was his idea! It's always Edward's ideas, never mine."

Tony laughed sharply. "Yes, I already heard you were likely to try that," he told the captive man scornfully. "Unfortunately for you, your brother's already turned you in. He says it was all your idea, and since he's the one who came forward, who do you think they'll believe?"

Predictably, Seymour began to struggle all the harder, especially as the guards began to drag him out. "No! No!" he yelled, before one of the guards, impatient, simply knocked him out.

"Nicely done," Tony said approvingly. He directed the remaining two guards to assist him in the search of Seymour's apartment, looking for any evidence that would further incriminate him – or anyone else. Tony hoped that Seymour had acted alone. He wasn't sure how Henry would take it if his pretty little English rose – or so he said; personally, Tony thought she was boring – turned out to be involved in the attempt on Anne's life. He was sure, however, that he didn't want to find out.

A/N: OK, I'm not usually one for quotes/thoughts of the day, but I found this quote on LJ: "Love is friendship set on fire." (Ann Landers, and I have no clue who she is, but hey, I was good, I did proper attribution. Damn the writing for journalists class…) I don't know, it just seemed… appropriate. Oh, and in case anyone was going to call me on it, I'm aware that Margaret/Charles has performed a semi-hijacking. I'm rewatching season 1 and it's reminding me how much I liked them.


	30. Desperate Measures

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 29 – Desperate Measures:**_ "Mama!" Cecily said delightedly, reaching out from her father's arms to her mother. Anne smiled at her little daughter, nodding to Henry to show that he could put her down.

"Be careful, Cecily," Henry admonished lightly. "Your Mama's a little hurt, so you can't hug her tightly."

"Yes, Papa," the toddler said, nodding. Henry set her down in Anne's lap, and she didn't hug her, though Anne wouldn't have minded. But Cecily smiled up at her, looking thrilled to see her again.

"Were you sick, Mama?"

"No, sweetheart, I… I fell down, that's all."

Henry winced at Cecily's question and Anne's answer. He should have expected that Cecily, even though Lady Bryan must have given her some explanation, would ask Anne what had happened. Their daughter had more than her fair share of curiosity. She had inherited that from her mother – he was already dreading when Anne would ask him if they'd found out who attacked her. How could he tell her that she'd nearly died, that their child had been murdered, because he'd gotten a mistress pregnant?

He pushed the thought away and listened to Anne and their daughter talking. Cecily was excitedly filling her mother in on what she'd been doing while Anne was unable to see her. "And I'm learning to say new things, Mama, listen! _Bonjour, maman_ and _hola, mama_. That means, hello, mama in French and Spanish."

"That's very good, sweetheart, where did you learn that?"

"Aunt Mary taught me the French, and Mary and Katrin told me the Spanish. Missy learned it too. Ned wasn't there, but Missy and I want to teach him."

"Ned?" Anne asked, confused. Henry, knowing who Cecily meant, stepped in.

"Edward Brandon, Margaret's child. He's been spending more time with the girls in the nursery lately."

Anne's eyes widened. "Has he? I'm surprised. I thought Margaret didn't want…"

"She's coming around," he said with a smile. "It took her a lot longer than I would have liked, but – Anne, do you want me to take her?" Cecily had fallen asleep, her head in Anne's lap. Anne shook her head, stroking Cecily's soft dark hair.

"No, she's fine. It's my ankle and my ribs that are a problem, and she's not hurting them. I'd rather keep her, actually; it feels like so long since I've seen her." She gave Henry a worried look. "How did she handle it, when I was…?"

"She was fine," Henry assured her, though it was not entirely true. Cecily had asked for her mother almost constantly, and she'd asked it of everyone: him, Lady Bryan, Katherine, Mary, Mistress Cathy, Lady Carey, Lady Surrey, George Boleyn… But he wasn't going to tell Anne that. She didn't need to know how upset their child had been, or how terrified he'd been. "She's strong, our daughter. Just like her mother. She missed you, I know that; we both did."

Anne smiled. "I'm sorry about… Once I woke up…"

"No, it's fine. You'd been through a terrible ordeal, and what matters is that you're recovering."

Anne nodded. "But that's not all that matters. Henry, did they find out who attacked me?"

"There's already someone in the Tower," he assured her, "and I am certain of his guilt."

"Who was it?"

"Anne… Right now you don't need to worry about that. Believe me, you're no longer in any danger, nor is anyone else in our family."

She wanted to press, but she recognized the look on his face. It was the look he got when he was in one of his overprotective moods, and it meant she wouldn't get an answer from him. She would try Mary, Kate, or George later, or even Katherine. Surely someone would tell her.

She did ask one more thing. "Just tell me this; it's not someone I trusted, someone I thought was a friend?"

Henry shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "Nothing like that."

That was something, and it was a comfort. She hadn't been able to think of anyone close to her who might have been willing to harm her, but the possibility had still haunted her. It was enough for now, to know that her attack had not also been a betrayal. She would find out more later, from whoever might be willing to tell her.

* * *

George had insisted on observing the interrogation, even if it was Cromwell who actually asked the questions. He wanted to see the man responsible for what had happened to his sister, though now that he was here he wasn't sure it was such a good idea. There was a good chance that he wouldn't be able to control himself and might end up strangling the son of a whore if he wasn't careful.

Apparently, his sister had nearly died and had lost her child – her son – because Seymour's slut of a sister had gotten herself pregnant with the King's bastard. It was enough to make the most even-tempered of men feel murderous, and George wasn't particularly even-tempered. Although, he mused wryly, perhaps it's a good thing you've spent the past three years keeping Father in line. It makes it easier to stay calm.

"Did your sister know what you planned to do? It would be in her favor if you succeeded, after all," Cromwell prompted.

Seymour scoffed. "Tell Jane? Hardly. I already explained it, my brother told me to do it, and he said to say nothing to anyone, even Jane. Our sister has a very fragile conscience, you know, and we wouldn't want her burdened down with the knowledge."

Cromwell shook his head. "You're already lying, Seymour. Your brother had nothing to do with this. Now. Either you acted alone or with your sister's collusion. Which was it?"

"You really think Edward had nothing to do with this? He only turned me in to save his own skin. He must have thought he'd fool you, and apparently he did. I'm just his tool, you know; he's the mastermind. If anyone should be locked up, it's him." Seymour looked like a sulky child, and he was almost whining now, trying to make it seem as though he was the wronged party here.

"Even if that were the case," Cromwell informed him coldly, "you were still the one to push Lady Anne. That makes you as guilty as any supposed mastermind. Besides, your brother wasn't the first to turn you in."

"Jane, you little…" he muttered, his face darkening. "I did it for you…"

"Hang on," George cut in, ignoring the slight frown on Cromwell's face at the interruption. "I thought you said Jane had nothing to do with it."

"I…" Seymour blinked, taken aback. "I didn't tell her, no, but I thought… She could have overheard when I told Edward – I mean, when I reported back to him after pushing the handmaid. I think she might have, actually."

"So, nothing you've said is believable, except that you pushed Lady Anne," Cromwell said, taking charge again. "You claim your brother was the mastermind, never mind that he came forward to turn you in and it was such a foolish plan that no one will believe he was involved. You say your sister knew nothing, but suddenly she might have overheard. Why should I or anyone else believe you didn't act alone and now just want to take your family with you?"

Seymour shrugged, his expression insolent. "Believe what you like. But if you really think I could have done this alone, without any of them knowing, go right ahead. You'll see when Edward and Jane plot so that her brat can take the throne when the King dies. And I'll laugh at you from Hell."

George surged forward again, this time to do… He didn't know what, but he had a strong urge to slam that smug face into the stone wall. But he was stopped by a strong grip on his arm. "I wouldn't advise that, Lord Hunsdon," Cromwell said quietly. "He's going to die, that's enough for him, and you don't want trouble for attacking a man before he's officially convicted of his crimes."

The chance of him actually getting in trouble was a small one, and both Cromwell and George knew it, but the comment was enough to bring George back to his senses. "Right," he said, tugging out of Cromwell's grip and smoothing his clothes. He took a deep breath. "I think I'll go check on my sister now, unless I can be of use in getting more information out of this piece of filth?"

"No, I have the matter in hand, my lord," Cromwell said, inclining his head.

"Good man," George said absently before walking out. Once the door shut behind him, he collapsed against the wall, running his hand through his hair. That loss of control in there was unacceptable. He'd been slipping lately; as much as his father had deserved that punch, it had been uncharacteristic of him to deliver it. He'd spent the past few years working on his emotional control; he'd had to, what if someone was able to pick up how he felt about Mark?

He knew what it was, of course. Before, when all of this had started, Anne had pointed out to him that she was the one taking risks with this position – well, her and Katherine, was what she'd said. But he had laughed her off, thinking that nothing bad would happen unless she never bore a son. And the odds of having a healthy boy were in her favor.

But he'd been wrong. God, had he been wrong. And then, with his father not even caring, Anne's life hanging by a thread… She was fine now, yes, but she almost hadn't been, and that scum in the cell he'd just left was responsible. Was his empty-headed sister involved? He knew Edward Seymour wasn't; he didn't like the man, but the elder Seymour brother was nothing if not smart, and he wouldn't have done something like this. If he had wanted Anne dead, he would have used the same tactic George's father wanted to use against Katherine – some kind of poison, one that wouldn't be detected in time to save the victim. Jane, on the other hand, while pretty enough in a simple, boring way, was an idiot like Thomas. He could believe that she was somehow involved.

He wondered if the King would be able to sentence the wench to death if she was involved. And what about her child? What would Henry do with his latest bastard if the mother turned out to be a traitor? He'd honored little Henry Fitzroy, but surely he wouldn't do the same for a half-Seymour bastard, not under these circumstances. George wished he was certain of that, and while the King's behavior concerning his dalliance with Mistress Seymour suggested it, he still could not be entirely confident that this child would never cause trouble for them.

* * *

"Good God. I knew the boy was an idiot, but I didn't think he was that stupid."

Anne laughed. "Nor did I."

"So," Francis drawled, "what else do you want from the King for turning the Seymours in?"

She shrugged, rolling onto her back and studying the ceiling. "Well, not being dragged down with them was the important thing. I assumed Edward would be in as much trouble as Thomas, for keeping his mouth shut, but since he decided not to…"

Her bedmate laughed. "Are you saying you turned your brother-in-law in so he and your husband would be executed and you'd be free?"

"Well, I won't say I didn't consider it. But I wonder, if Edward ends up in prison or something, if I could get an annulment. Maltreatment, or something, for the official story."

He frowned. "I'm sure you could, but don't look to snag me for your next husband. What we're doing is just fun. I'm not interested in having a wife – though I imagine I at least wouldn't be bored with you."

Anne shrugged. "I imagine we'd both be bored of each other eventually," she told him casually. She had thought, briefly, about marrying him if she was free of Edward, but had already come to the conclusion that making things official would probably ruin the attraction they had for one another.

"Well, I'm not bored yet, and you're all but a free woman, which at least means I won't have to worry about a cuckolded husband wanting my blood."

"There is that. And I'm not bored either, so…"

* * *

Katherine was not naïve, and so she was well-aware that Chapuys was not visiting her merely to give her the latest news of her nephew – especially when he spent nearly as much time talking about her nephew's son, who was only four. It wasn't that Katherine minded hearing about the boy – he was a relative, after all – but it was clear that the ambassador had another motive. And she didn't think little Philip was all that was on his mind.

"I think such tales of Philip might be best saved for the King, or Lady Anne once she is recovered," she told the ambassador. He had the grace to look shamefaced.

"That is true, Your Majesty, however, I… It is perfectly understandable that the King should wish to postpone all discussion of Princess Cecily's marriage until her mother is well again, so I have agreed not to approach him on the matter for a time. I simply hoped that, when he is of a mind to think of the betrothal again, that you might consider speaking on behalf of the Emperor."

"I always do all I can to encourage good relations between my adopted country and that of my birth, Ambassador. However, I recall that a marriage alliance was made once before, between my daughter and the Emperor, only for it to fall apart."

"Yes," Chapuys said. "That is true. It was not something the Emperor wished to do, but unfortunately he was in need of an heir and the Princess Mary was still too young to be a mother."

"I understand that, but I fear that my husband may not. I will do what I can, once he is ready to hear it, but I would advise you to find ways to make him confident that history will not repeat itself."

"Yes, Your Majesty. And, on another matter…"

"Yes?"

"I have heard that Master Thomas Seymour was arrested for attacking the Lady Anne, but is it certain that he acted alone? I ask because I recall that there was concern that others, such as you yourself or the Princess Mary, could also be in danger."

"The King took steps to protect us, as well as little Princess Cecily, his sister, and his nephew. I do not believe us to be in danger, though it is kind of you to be concerned."

The ambassador left not long after, and Rosa came over to Katherine's chair. "I see our dear friend the ambassador is recruiting you in his campaign to get the King to give Princess Cecily to the Emperor's son."

"Of course he is. Mendoza must have told him of Henry's anger when Charles decided against marrying Mary, and he hopes that I can talk Henry into being sure that won't happen again."

"Are you going to?"

Katherine smiled wryly. "I have a family duty to do so, I imagine, and I can't deny that I don't think it's a good idea. I do, however, think that _Senor_ Chapuys has rather bad timing."

"That is certainly true, Your Majesty, though he makes up for that by being concerned about the possible dangers should Seymour have allies." There was a commotion at the door, and with a nod from Katherine, Rose went to investigate. When she came back, there was an odd look on her face.

"What is it?"

"Your Majesty, Jane Seymour is asking to speak with you."

* * *

Jane was terrified. Thomas had been arrested and Edward was confined to quarters. As of now, nothing had been done to her, but if they knew that Edward had known about what Thomas did, they might be able to find out that she had known, too. She'd only been doing what she thought was safest, for the brother she'd always been close to and for the child in her womb, but Anne was awake now and it was a guarantee that _she_, at least wouldn't understand that. Never mind that Jane was sure that had her and Anne's positions had been reversed, Anne would do exactly the same thing if it meant protecting George Boleyn and her unborn baby.

Before, Jane had thought she might be able to appeal to Henry, but there was no chance of that now. Anne would probably want to be sure that Jane's child was never acknowledged as Henry's, not after she'd witnessed his reception of Henry Fitzroy, so there would be no help from him while he was under his handmaid's influence. But she had to do something. She wasn't about to just wait for Cromwell or Knivert to arrest her. She hadn't done anything wrong!

There had to be something she could do, someone she could go to, but who? She might have considered the Duke of Suffolk, as he had helped the King keep the affair with her secret, but no; his wife had been a prime suspect before Thomas had been arrested, and he'd probably be furious that he'd had to investigate his own wife for treason. No one could trust Cromwell, so she didn't think he'd be able to help her. She wished she could have asked Edward's advice, but he was under house arrest and besides, he had to have been the one to turn Thomas in, because who else knew?

That was when a completely wild thought came to her. What about the Queen? Surely, if nothing else, she could understand what it was like to want the best for your child, to be willing to do anything for that child. It was a long shot, perhaps, but really, it was her only chance, wasn't it?

Still, when she had curtsied before the Queen and had still not been given permission to rise, she began to question if this really had been the best possible idea. But it was too late to change her mind now, and so she took a deep breath, waiting for the Queen to invite her to speak.

"Why are you here, Mistress Seymour?"

"Your Majesty, I…"

"If you are here hoping that I will speak to the King about being merciful to your brother, you are asking the wrong person. I do not ask clemency for murderers."

Despite her harsh words, Jane was still happy that the Queen had broached the subject first. "But Thomas is not like that," she began earnestly. "Normally he would never have considered doing something so immoral, he just… He acted rashly because he was worried about me. He wanted to help me, because he thought that… You see, I'm carrying the King's child, and Thomas was only thinking of that child's future. He was wrong, of course he was, but he had good intentions." She dared to look up, but she didn't meet the Queen's gaze, because she looked furious.

"You speak as though you know precisely what your brother's motives were, Mistress Seymour. Now why is that?"

"I told him… I was upset, so I told him I was pregnant. I never said he should do what he did, I didn't know about it, I swear! I know Thomas, that's why I know what he must have thought. He wouldn't have any other reason; Mi- Lady Anne has never done anything to him." She cursed herself for that slip. Why had she nearly called Anne 'Mistress' instead of 'Lady'? It wasn't a title she even used for Anne! But then, she did feel that Anne should never have been more than Mistress Boleyn, so maybe that was it.

"Don't stare at the floor," the Queen snapped, and Jane looked up. "You truly knew nothing before your brother acted?" she wanted to know.

Jane met the Queen's eyes, as nervous as she was. "No, I did not. He would never have told me, he would not have wanted to burden me with such knowledge and force me to choose between what a subject's duty says I must do and what I owe to my child."

Katherine nodded, seeming to accept that. Jane almost relaxed, until the Queen asked another question, one she'd been dreading. "And did you know he was responsible before his arrest? It was not that long ago, I'm surprised you could have come to such strong conclusions about his motives already."

"If I had known, I would have done the right thing," Jane said. She did not even realize she'd looked down again, but Katherine did.

"That is not the answer I wanted. A simple yes or no will do. Did you know that your brother was responsible for nearly killing the Lady Anne and causing her to lose her child before he was turned in?"

"I… He didn't tell me, no one said anything. You have to understand, I just overheard Edward accuse him of it, and he said he did it for me, for my child. I believed him, and how could I repay him by turning him in? I know he was wrong, but he did it for me, and I was afraid for my child."

"So not only did you hide your brother's guilt, you lied for him when you were questioned? I had heard that you were the one whose statement initially cleared your brother."

"No! I didn't know anything then, I truly thought he had been with me based on the rumors I'd heard."

"But once you knew differently, you did not come forward. Instead, you risked allowing other people to take the blame, including the King's sister. If you knew he was wrong, why did you not speak up?"

Jane bit her lip. "I thought… I wanted… The Lady Anne was not awake yet, and I…" She stopped, horrified at what had slipped out. She had better control than this! But she was just so nervous, and she couldn't seem to keep herself from saying things she ought not to.

"What did you want, Mistress Jane? Were you hoping that if Lady Anne did not recover, the King would choose you to replace her?"

"I… I would not dare to wish an early death on anyone, Your Majesty, but if such a thing had happened, I would have done all I could to act appropriately. But that does not matter, and it did not then. I was thinking of my child. As the nephew of a traitor, what would happen to him?"

"I think you mean the son of a traitor, as your silence makes you complicit in your brother's actions. And as for being an appropriate handmaid should the chance have arisen… Your own behavior has not borne that out. After all, you have confessed to me that you are pregnant with my husband's bastard. I'm afraid I do not understand your definition of appropriate."

"I've never flaunted what I've been in the King's life," Jane said desperately. "I've done all I can to be discreet."

"And you think that because you can keep your feelings to yourself better than most of Henry's women that you're any different than the others? At least they did not plot to murder someone they saw as a rival – and I very much doubt they would have hidden knowledge of such a plot."

"It was for my child," Jane tried one last time. "Please! Would you not do anything for the Princess Mary?"

"I would not condone murder for her sake, Mistress Seymour! That would put some of the guilt for the crime on my daughter's conscience, and I would not want that for her. You have condemned your child to always be tainted by the tragedies surrounding his existence. Do not try to say it was all for the baby in your womb. You wanted to replace the Lady Anne, you told yourself that you would have been a better choice as handmaid."

"I would be! I would stay in the background, I would never presume to act as a near-equal to you, I would respect Princess Mary, and I would even be kind to Princess Cecily."

"You would try to be kind to a toddler who has never done you harm? As though it is some great sacrifice? Mistress Seymour, I think that perhaps you do not hear your own words, because they do not sound like the good woman you think yourself to be."

While Jane had been pleading, Katherine had signaled Rosa with her eyes, and the other woman had quickly sent one of the younger women out to find Sir Anthony Knivert and tell him what had transpired. Ursula Misseldon had not even been at court for a full month, but even she understood the gravity of this situation. So she all but ran to Knivert's quarters, knocking hard on the door.

She tried not to be distracted when he opened the door clad in only breeches and a loose shirt. "Yes?" he said, looking at her with some confusion.

"Sir Anthony, Mistress Jane Seymour is in the Queen's quarters, pleading with her for mercy. She said that she knew her brother pushed Lady Anne, and that she said nothing for the sake of her unborn child – and it sounded as though she cherished hopes of replacing the Lady as well, if she had not recovered."

Knivert's eyes narrowed. "Thank you, Mistress…?"

"Ursula Misseldon, sir."

"Mistress Ursula, thank you for coming so quickly. You should go back to the Queen's rooms now. Don't worry; all of this will be taken care of soon. I can guarantee that."

"I am glad to be of assistance, sir," she said politely before leaving. Knivert watched her go, sighing. Well, this wasn't unexpected, but he didn't imagine Henry would take it well. God knew he was already wondering if some of this mess was his fault – he'd be convinced of that now. But it wasn't his job to worry about that; all he had to do was go to Cromwell, get an arrest warrant drawn up, and then take Mistress Seymour into custody. And he'd better get that immediately – once he was in proper hose and doublet again, of course.

A/N: Wow, Jane miscalculated, didn't she? Also, this story now has a trailer, thanks to Twinkle988. ([www].[you][tube].com/watch?v=sY0wN7sLoIM). Check it out (just make sure you get rid of the brackets before copying/pasting it) and make sure you tell her what an amazing job she did.


	31. Difficulties of Truth

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 30 – Difficulties of Truth:**_ Kate couldn't believe what Lady Anne Clifford was telling her. "She actually said that she would make a better handmaid than Anne, and that her brother thought he was doing the right thing?"

"Yes, that's exactly what she said. And then Ursula went and got Sir Anthony, and now she's in the Tower."

"I don't care if she's in Hell, I'm going to strangle her," Kate said through gritted teeth.

"And what good would that do, except to get you taken up for murder? Although, I suppose it's possible that the King might thank you for making the hassle of a trial and public execution unnecessary."

"Anne, honestly, I don't think the King would care."

"No, but the Lady might be upset at her companion committing such a sin for her sake," Lady Clifford pointed out. Taking a step forward, she placed a hand on her younger friend's arm. "_Katherine_," she said, stressing the other woman's full name, "you need to calm down. Getting angry won't help anyone."

Kate sighed, shaking her head. "Do you know if my lady was told yet?"

"I doubt it, who would tell her? Certainly the King won't, and besides, it was only a few hours ago. I don't think she even knows it was Thomas Seymour who pushed her."

Kate scowled. "Wonderful. What do they think, that she'll just forget about it?"

"I'm sure His Majesty just wants her to recover and not worry about what happened."

"Then he doesn't know Lady Anne that well. She'll worry about it, she'll wonder who did it, and she won't get any peace until she knows."

"Well, then why don't you tell her? Discreetly, because you might be in trouble for it."

"Maybe I should," Kate said thoughtfully. "But first, is there anything about this mess that you haven't told me yet?"

* * *

Somehow, Edward wasn't surprised when he was informed to ready himself to be moved to the Tower. It made sense that he'd be arrested, even if he didn't end up losing his head. Keeping his life was all he could hope for now, especially if what he'd overheard was true. The guards apparently hadn't realized that he could hear them, and he'd been able to listen in on their conversation and find out more of what was going on.

What kind of a fool was Jane? If she had just kept her mouth shut, she could have gotten out of this mess relatively unscathed, but she just had to stick her neck out for Thomas' sake. He would never understand why Jane was so damned loyal to their brother; it wasn't as though Thomas had ever returned that loyalty, even when they were children. But then, their father had always said Tom took after him, so maybe that had something to do with the youngest Seymour male's faithlessness.

He was surprised when Anne entered. He hadn't thought they'd let anyone in, but a guard did follow her, and stood by the door as she collected some belongings. "You couldn't have waited?" he asked her bitterly. She just shrugged, which for some reason infuriated him.

He wanted to reach out and grab her, but conscious of the guard he restrained himself. "Why did you do it, Anne?" he wanted to know. She turned around, giving him a long, level look.

"Why do you think? I didn't want to be dragged down with you lot, and I thought it was a chance to get out of our marriage."

"So you really hate me that much then, enough to see me beheaded in order for you to be free?" He had no doubts that if he hadn't come forward at the same time, he would be fated for the scaffold. Now there was a chance, but that hadn't come about because of his wife.

"Me? You're the one who's treated me like an object since we were married!" she shot back, dark eyes blazing. "Just because your first wife ended up in bed with your father doesn't mean I deserved to be punished for her mistake!"

"Oh, as if you were so innocent! Do you think I didn't know about you and Bryan?" The guard stirred when their voices rose, but seeing that the only attacks were verbal, he didn't do anything to get in the middle of it. Anne, meanwhile, laughed harshly.

"And if you had bothered, just for a moment, to treat me as a person, perhaps I wouldn't have had to seek someone else out!"

"You couldn't have said this before helping to get me thrown in the Tower?" His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"What would have been the point? You would have just looked at me blankly, muttered something under your breath, and gone back to your machinations."

"And somehow, I've earned possible death because I'm emotionally distant? Tell me, Anne, what logic did you use to come to that decision?"

She took a breath as though to say something, but then shook her head. "Good-bye, Edward," she said instead, striding toward the door. Edward watched her go, not even bothering to come up with a final parting shot. Once he was alone in the room again, he sat on the edge of his bed, head in hands. He honestly didn't see how it had all begun to go wrong, how it had come to this.

Clearly, he'd been too busy scheming and plotting, trying to get ahead at court, to notice what was happening in his own circle. And so Jane, foolish, mostly-innocent Jane, had turned to Thomas when she was in trouble, just like she always had. _"You're too cold, Edward, I can't talk to you!" _she'd told him once. Apparently Anne agreed, only she seemed to think it was a killing offense.

And because Jane had turned to Thomas, he'd been the one who sought to 'fix' the problem, and as usual, he made things far worse. Now all of the Seymours who were at court were ruined, and thank God they'd already managed to marry Elizabeth off to a country squire not far from Wolf Hall. It meant that only Dorothy would be affected – well, and their father, but he didn't give a damn about John Seymour at this point – and Edward did care about his sisters, so he was glad of that.

Right now, considering his situation, he had to take care of himself. Yes, he was being taken to the Tower, but he had not yet been charged with anything. People who ended up in the Tower weren't always executed; the Earl of Warwick had been kept there for years, and… Well, that was a bad example, but he'd only ended up dead because Ferdinand and Isabella had refused to let the then-Princess Catalina come to England until he was gone. That was what Edward had heard, anyway, though the official story was that Warwick had been caught up in an escape plot.

If he cooperated with everyone, did and said anything they asked, he just might survive this. Survival was the only goal now; there likely wasn't a chance of anything more for him at this point. He wasn't even sure there was a realistic chance of that, but what else was he supposed to do? He would be damned if he would just lay down and let Thomas and Jane's idiocy kill him, so he would simply have to do what he could to avoid that. There was nothing else for it.

* * *

The rumors flew across the palace like lightning, with the effect that, within a few hours, almost everyone in the palace knew what had transpired in the Queen's rooms. Mary heard about it from Cathy, who had gotten it from one of her maids. Said maid's older sister worked in Mary's mother's service, and had been within hearing distance of the scene. The network of information sometimes made Mary's head spin, but the habit of making use of it was something she'd picked up from Kate, who often commented that at a royal court, the ability to gather information was a valuable skill. Mary felt, that as a girl who was likely to be a Queen Consort somewhere if not a Queen Regnant, her friend's philosophy was even more true.

This information, however was truly shocking. "I can't believe she actually approached my mother," she told Cathy as they walked together in one of the knot gardens, shaking her head. "I don't think even _I_ would have the nerve to ask Mama for help if I was involved with something like that!"

"But you never would be, Mary, remember that," Cathy observed.

"That wasn't the point."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I just…" Mary shook her head. "You know, everyone thought I was too young to understand, when Henry Fitzroy was born. But I knew – I _knew_ how much it hurt my mother to know that my father was taking mistresses, even before he sired a son on one of them. I was just a child but I knew. And now… It sounds horrible, but I hope Father's learned from this. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't taken Jane Seymour as a mistress – if he'd been able to control himself enough that he didn't need a mistress at all – so maybe he'll stop now."

Cathy raised her eyebrows. She knew that Mary hated seeing her father lead out yet another pretty girl out to dance, but she had never realized just how much it bothered her friend. The Queen and Lady Anne both seemed to take the King's behavior in stride, and Mary never outwardly showed that she wished her father acted differently, but… Clearly she was more bothered by it all than she'd ever revealed.

"You know, it's not just your father," she pointed out quietly. "Everyone knows about the scandal with Kate's father-in-law and his mistress, not to mention I know that the Duke of Suffolk is hardly faithful; Princess Margaret is very vocal about her opinion of that."

"That doesn't make it right, though!" Mary stalked ahead of her friend, her temper fraying. "Just because so many men think they can disregard their marriage vows and no one complains when they do doesn't mean that they should."

"I'm not going to say I disagree with you; I don't." Cathy's own father had been faithful to her mother, and she didn't see why a man would stray when he had a woman who loved him already – or in the King's case, two – but when marriages were so rarely about love, she had to admit she had some sympathy with the idea of finding love elsewhere. She even knew that some women saw their husbands' infidelities as a relief. "Some people aren't as hurt by it as others, though, you have to remember that."

"Still," Mary said stubbornly. "Even then, it's not right, even if it's more understandable. But my father… I never understood why he needed a mistress in the first place, and now look what's happened. It could have happened before, when Anne was carrying Cecily, or to my mother during one of her pregnancies. He didn't even see the danger he was creating until it was too late!"

Cathy couldn't argue with that. None of this would have happened if the King hadn't taken a mistress, and even he couldn't deny it. She wasn't sure why this was bothering Mary so much, except… Oh. Mistresses, and Mary's mother, and… Really, there were times when Cathy found herself feeling like a total fool, and this was one of them. Little Cecily had asked anyone and everyone where her mother was, but the person she'd spent the most time clinging to was Mary. And Mary wouldn't have minded, because she loved her sister, but she had to have thought, at least once, that she could have been Cecily. She could have been the one whose mother suddenly disappeared and no one would say why.

"How long do you think it would have been?" Mary's seemingly incongruous question interrupted Cathy's musings, and she frowned.

"Before what? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You said that Jane likely hoped to take Anne's place. Well, once she had the handmaid position, or that of Princess Consort if she had a son, how long before she – or if not her, her brother – decided it was time she was Queen?"

It was a fair point. People whispered about the Boleyns, about whether or not they might consider targeting Queen Katherine once Lady Anne bore a son, but it was just talk, its only basis in Lord Rochford's known ruthless ambition. The Seymours had already proven their willingness to kill in order to advance, so the thought that they might do so again had some merit. And if Cathy knew her friend, then Mary had likely been brooding on this for a while.

"Don't think about it, Mary," she advised quietly. "Everyone's safe now, it's all going to be fine."

"But if you're right, and Father learns nothing from this, what about next time?"

* * *

It was over. She'd done everything she could, acted in the only way she felt she could, and it had ended here, in the Tower. Jane stared at the walls of her cell, only just managing not to cry. What was going to happen to her now?

She'd thought that the Queen would understand. She hadn't wanted Lady Anne to die, but she had seen how things might have been if she had. She truly did think it would have been better for them all. Even Princess Cecily would be better off without her mother's influence. Jane really believed that. It wasn't meant out of malice, it was just what she saw as the truth.

But she'd been wrong. She didn't know why – maybe Queen Katherine thought that if Thomas had been willing to attack Anne to make Jane handmaid, he'd be willing to go after Katherine in order to make his sister Queen? But then she wouldn't have said what she did.

_"Mistress Seymour, I think that perhaps you do not hear your own words, because they do not sound like the good woman you think yourself to be."_

She'd been desperate! She was pregnant, and terrified, and Thomas' actions seemed like a ray of hope, like a chance to make everything all right for her child. And while she did not blame Cecily for her mother, it would be harder to love the little girl, seeing always the shadow of her rival in the small face. That was natural, and while perhaps she should not have spoken of it, she could not see how any other woman would find that to be an easy thing.

Was the Queen right? Had she been wrong? No… No, she couldn't have been. She just hadn't explained herself well, and had given the wrong impression. She wasn't cruel or spiteful, and had things been different she was sure she would have been a good handmaid. But all of that was lost now, and her child, instead of being born a Prince or Princess, would be just another royal bastard, and somehow Jane didn't think her child would be welcomed as Bessie Blount's had been.

There were names in the wall. It didn't really matter to her, except as a distraction from her bleak thoughts, but it didn't really help. She knew why people carved their names here. They did it when they were about to die, about to take that long walk to the scaffold, the gallows, or the stake.

_"I think you mean the son of a traitor…"_

Surely that wouldn't be her fate? No matter what, Henry had loved her, hadn't he? And besides, she was going to be the mother of his child. Even if that child was a bastard, he would have to love the baby, and while he might never forgive her for not speaking out, he might decide to spare her for their child's sake. He had to; he wouldn't leave his own child motherless. Would he?

* * *

"So, are you going to be like Henry and my brother, and tell me that asking what happened will only hurt my recovery?" Anne inquired of Kate when the younger girl took her seat near her mistress' bed. Kate gave her a slightly apprehensive look.

"Do you want to know now?"

"I think I need to," Anne admitted. "I don't want to know, not really. I don't want to know who would be willing to do something like this, but if I don't find out soon, it will drive me mad."

"That's what I thought," Kate admitted, and then took a deep breath. "It was Thomas Seymour."

"Seymour, but… Henry's mistress is Master Seymour's sister," Anne said quietly, staring down at the bedclothes. "Of course. What did he want, for Jane to take my place? If she let Henry have her, he'd never consider her for handmaid."

"She's pregnant," Kate said quietly, and Anne looked back up at her, startled. "Edward Seymour came forward, as did his wife. Jane is in the Tower along with Thomas, though, because she knew what her brother did and said nothing. She claimed that she was only thinking of her child, but that makes no sense, because she's only made things worse. I have to feel bad for that baby, even if I don't think much of the mother."

"Mm-hmm," Anne said vaguely, not really hearing what Kate was saying. She'd lost the thread of the conversation as soon as she'd learned that Henry's mistress had been involved. It was ironic, really. None of them had ever thought she'd be in danger, as handmaid. Usually, in arrangements like this one, it was the Queen who was in danger if anyone. She'd thought, when she took this position, that she was keeping them all safe. Katherine, Mary, Henry, even herself. One way or another, becoming handmaid would secure her future. And yet it hadn't worked out quite like that, had it? She should have remembered that dangers always came from unexpected directions. And yet… someone had suspected. Hadn't they?

_"I don't like her," Mary told her little sister as she helped Anne into her gown._

_"Oh, I wouldn't worry about Mistress Seymour," Anne said with a faint laugh. "She's a pretty thing, I suppose, but really, she's quite dull, and according to Kate, a bit of a snob. Henry will tire of her soon, I imagine." _

_"But doesn't it bother you, Anne, that he isn't faithful?"_

_"I'm not his wife, remember, Mary. I'm not sure how much right I have to be jealous, and even so, what's the point? He'll not stray far, and I wouldn't want him approaching me in carnal matters right now anyway." She shook her head. "He thought about it, when I was carrying Cecily. I could tell. But he remembered that it might hurt her, and so he didn't. I prefer not having to worry about him forgetting why he shouldn't in the heat of the moment." _

_"Well, if you're sure, Anne, but I don't know. There's something about the way she looks at us, as though she thinks she's better than we are. And I don't like those brothers of hers. Edward's not so bad, just so cold it's no wonder his wives don't seem to prefer his bed, but that Thomas… He seems like a man who'd do anything." _

_"But what can they do?" _

What can they do indeed. Apparently, so much more than she had ever given them credit for. Well. She could not change what had happened, and hating herself now, while tempting, wouldn't help. She would make herself see this as a lesson, to _never_ underestimate anyone again, no matter how harmless they seemed. It was all she could do for her lost boy now; pray for his soul and remember the lesson his loss had given her.

A/N: Not quite so late as last time… I'm improving.


	32. The Sound of Drums

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 31 – The Sound of Drums:**_ It was actually easier than Edward might have expected, testifying about what Thomas had told him while his younger brother looked on, murder in his dark eyes. He was not about to feel guilty for this, not after everything that had happened. Still, it seemed almost surreal. The Seymour children might not have been a terribly close-knit unit (Thomas and Jane had paired off, as had Elizabeth and Dorothy, with Edward usually pursuing solitary interests) but it had always been assumed that the family would stick together regardless of whether they actually _liked_ one another or not.

His father had been the first to ruin that theory, and his brother had taken such betrayals to a new level. Why should he be bound by the ideas they had so casually trounced? And so he was perfectly able to answer the questions put to him in a level, steady voice, without the slightest twinge of filial guilt.

"Damn you to hell!" his always-indiscreet brother yelled, rage making him lose what little self-control he possessed. Edward knew it would not be a good idea to be seen smirking – he was a prisoner, after all, and while he had only been sentenced to imprisonment, that could change – but inwardly he couldn't help the scorn. _Maybe I am headed for hell, __**dear**__ brother, but I do believe you will clear the way for me, won't you?_

Thomas wasn't going to survive his madcap scheme's fallout. Perhaps Jane would not either, or she might be more fortunate. She had at least seven months before her child was born, and in that time the King's anger might cool just enough that she would be permitted to live, either in prison or in exile. But Edward was bound and determined to survive, and thus far he had succeeded. Now he just had to grit his teeth and wait out his imprisonment. Eventually, the King would let him go – or failing that, if Edward managed to live long enough, the King's successor might. At any rate, he had one small chance, and he would do anything he had to in order to keep it. Testifying against Thomas had not been a hardship; it had been a pleasure, even, considering that the younger Seymour had tried to blame him for everything. But even if it had been difficult, he would have done it. He would do anything they wanted of him if it meant he would survive this disaster.

* * *

Jane was tried the day after her brother, and she'd already heard that Thomas had been convicted of high treason. She had, therefore, steeled herself to hear the same sentence, but when she heard the decree, "To be burned or beheaded at the King's pleasure," she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out.

_It_ _won't happen, it won't happen_, she told herself frantically. She had been granted a stay of execution until her child was born, and that was time in which Henry would surely calm down. He was blind with fury now, but later… He might never love her as he once had, because of this, but surely he wouldn't murder the mother of his child? Even if he hated her for the rest of his life, he couldn't leave his child motherless. She had to believe that, especially now.

Thomas would have no such reprieve. He was to die as soon as they could build the scaffold. The very thought of it broke her heart. He'd been wrong to act as he did, she knew that. Murder was a terrible sin. But he'd only meant to help her, and the fact that he was to die for that just seemed… wrong. There was nothing she could do now, though, except to pray for his soul. She would do that, she decided, with proper Latin prayers – the only non-English phrases she knew – and not the English verses that were growing in popularity.

That was just one more ill that could be laid at the feet of the Lady Anne, and another reason why she did not understand how the Queen could not see her position. Katherine was known for her devotion to Catholicism; did she not see her husband's handmaid as a threat? Her chaplain, Cranmer, was a known heretic, and he was friends with Cromwell, who was if anything worse. So the rumors – or rather, the rumors as Thomas and Edward had reported – said. Jane herself had always avoided listening to rumors. It had been hard enough to hold on to some of her virtue as the King's mistress without becoming known as a gossip as well.

She knew she was only thinking about all this to distract herself from the terrible events of recent days. It wasn't working as well as she would have liked. Even though she knew she wasn't going to die, the reality of her brother's impending death and the verdict at her own trial were making her doubt herself. Placing a hand over her stomach, she reminded herself that she was carrying the King's child, and that would save her.

* * *

Katherine was surprised, when she went to see Anne, to find the other woman out of bed and seated in a chair. Something of her reaction must have shown on her face because Anne gave her a rather impish grin. "I told them that I would go mad if I wasn't allowed to at least leave the bed, and Dr. Linacre finally agreed," she explained.

"You're in better spirits," Katherine observed as she took a chair herself, deciding not to comment on Anne's campaign to be allowed more freedom. Dr. Linacre wouldn't allow his charge to do anything that would cause harm no matter how Anne pushed, so there wasn't anything to be concerned about.

Anne's smile turned wry and a little bitter. "I'm trying to be," she said frankly, "but I'm not sure it's working as well as I'd like. Lady Bryan has orders to bring Cecily every day, though, and that's helped a lot. I've needed it, especially now that I know what happened."

"Henry told you?" Katherine doubted that somehow.

"No, it was Kate. But I'm glad she did; it was making things worse, not knowing. But… It's funny, you know. My sister said she didn't trust the Seymours, they made her nervous. And I just brushed her off."

"You weren't the only one who thought Jane was just another mistress. So did I, and I certainly have more experience with the subject than you."

"I know, it's just…" Anne shook her head, toying with the book in her lap. Katherine glanced at it, and, seeing that it was an English Bible, frowned automatically.

Anne saw the look and moved to set the book aside. "I don't want to fight about this again," she said honestly. She really didn't, especially not now. After everything that had happened, she didn't think she could face it.

"Neither do I, but we left things at an… unpleasant point."

"Is that what you'd call it?"

"Anne… Usually, you show good judgment; I know there must be a reason for you to be dabbling in heresy."

Anne managed not to roll her eyes. As she'd said, she didn't want to fight. "I don't think it is heresy. I'm not proposing that the Church be overthrown, I'm just suggesting that perhaps there should be a little more tolerance as opposed to all new ideas being dismissed out of hand."

"But allowing such tolerance would open the door for those who spread lies, like Luther. If they are given the chance to share their views, they will damn countless people to Hell for all eternity," Katherine replied. "I can't understand why you don't see that."

"It's just that… Scripture is so deep," Anne said earnestly. "I am certain that there are more layers to the truth in it than anyone can ever know, but I wonder; can priests, who by their vows are meant to hold themselves aloof from the world, ever find all the guidance that an everyday person must need? I won't say that priests aren't necessary, that those trained in theology don't have a deeper understanding than others, but they might not know how to look for the guidance that a young man just entering adulthood needs, or the questions that a mother might have."

"But what of those who would misinterpret it and so hurt countless people? It's too dangerous to risk such a thing, even if it only comes about through an honest mistake."

"And isn't it equally dangerous to have people making obeisances to fake relics?"

Katherine paused. "I don't condone things like that, but I don't think there's any harm in it, either."

Anne sighed. "We're not going to agree, are we? Not on this."

"No, I don't think that we are."

"Perhaps then, just agree to disagree? I don't intend to overthrow the Catholic Church, I just want to see the corruptions that any large institution must have weeded out, and to see faith become more accessible. I'm not trying to promote heresy."

"I think that you mean that, so perhaps we should just… not discuss this topic again. I felt we had to, in order to settle things after our previous argument, but it might be best if this is the last time we speak of this."

"I think you might be right about that." Anne tilted her head. "So, since I'm cooped up in here, I've no idea what's happening outside. How is Mary, and Mistress Cathy? What on Earth brought Margaret around, and is Chapuys still pushing the match with Prince Philip for Cecily?"

"If you'll pause between questions, perhaps I could answer."

* * *

"So will Mistress Seymour follow her brother to the scaffold, or will my father spare her so that his child will have its mother?" Mary asked.

Kate shrugged. "No one can say, Your Highness. If Jane was not pregnant… Well, if she was not pregnant than likely none of this would have happened, but if, for example, she were to miscarry within the next few weeks, I would say it's certain that she would have the same fate as Thomas, but as it is, seven months is a long time."

"He can't possibly forgive her! What sort of message would that send to other women who might want to do the same thing?"

"I don't think he will forgive her, but as you said, he might balk at leaving his child motherless. If nothing else, if he doesn't want to have the responsibility of ensuring the child's security, then he might have to leave Jane alive so she can take charge of him or her."

Mary sighed. "Can't he give the child to a good family to foster? If Jane raises the little one, who knows what ideas she might give him or her? If it's a boy, that would be a disaster. What if she convinces him that he should be King? I can't see Father taking that risk. At least I hope he would not."

Kate bit her lip. "I don't know," she said finally, deciding it was best not to speak of an idea she had come up with. She had said nothing to anyone, and Mary was certainly not the first one who should know. She had to speak with Hal, first, and then bring it up to the King, Lady Anne, or even the Queen, depending on who might be most receptive. She did agree with Mary; that child should not be raised by Jane Seymour. But it would be equally terrible if he or she was given away, and the foster family heaped shame on the child's head for what Jane and Thomas had done.

There had to be some sort of balance. The plan half-formed in Kate's mind would, hopefully, supply that, but nothing was certain yet. So she held her tongue, opting instead to continue walking in the garden, a step behind the young Princess, both of them waiting to hear that Seymour's execution had taken place.

For a moment, Kate almost thought she could hear the sound of drums that always preceded a beheading, and a chill ran down her spine. How easily things could be different, she thought. George had said himself, in his cups one night in the rooms she shared with Hal, that he could see how it might have been the Boleyns in this trouble. If things had been different.

* * *

George was in the crowd gathered to watch Seymour's execution, standing with his father, uncle, and cousin. Hal was as grim-faced as George, while both of the older men didn't even bother to contain their smirks. They were happy to be here.

George could not be. As much as he despised Seymour for what he had done, as much as he wanted to see the man dead and wished he could have choked the life from him personally, he did not like executions. He knew Hal felt the same way, and that both of them were very aware of how close they themselves were to the axe. After long hesitation, he had told Hal about the schemes their fathers had toyed with, deciding that he needed an ally. He could watch his father, but who would watch Norfolk?

Seymour was led to the block, and given the chance to speak. With a scornful expression on his face, he looked over the crowd, but didn't say anything. Even from here, George knew bravado when he saw it. He imagined that the man wasn't silent out of disdain, but because he didn't trust his voice. George snorted in contempt. He'd been present at Seymour's trial, had heard what the man had shouted to his brother. Where was that defiance now?

Seymour all but threw the money at the executioner, bitter fury contorting his features as he knelt before the block, lowering his head and stretching out his arms. George realized a second before the axe fell that the executioner must be inexperience, because it didn't look as though his aim was true.

He was right. Even the angry citizens of London who had jeered loudly at the man who had robbed the kingdom of a Prince of Wales were silenced, shock and horror stilling their tongues as the executioner (an apprentice, now that George looked more closely, young and skinny, with an unsteady grip on the axe handle) hacked at Seymour neck. Five blows before it was all over. It was impossible to say which of those had killed the man, though since the first blow had landed on his shoulders, George was willing to bet it hadn't been that one.

Still, despite the fact that he now felt just a little sick – that gory mess would unsettle almost anyone – he saw an opportunity. Leaning forward, he spoke quietly into his father's ear. "The first thing the King did, after Anne was attacked, was order protection for the other members of his family, including the Queen. He doesn't take it well when someone attacks those close to him. As we have seen. It's not a pleasant fate, is it, Father?" With that, he walked away, leaving behind a suddenly very pale Thomas Boleyn.

* * *

Katherine had been surprised when Henry had told her that he wanted to eat with her that night, but she accepted readily enough. She wanted to speak with him anyway. The only trouble was finding the right way to bring up what she wanted to discuss.

"Seymour was executed today," Henry said about halfway through their meal, breaking the silence for the first time.

"Yes, I had heard that."

"Seven months or so, and then this mess will be over. Jane won't receive mercy from me, and with any luck, it will be over sooner than that."

"Henry? What do you mean?"

"The Tower is cold, unpleasant. I don't see how she can manage to keep the child in such conditions. If she miscarries, then she can be put to death sooner and her bastard will never have a chance to steal the throne away from my rightful heirs."

Katherine blinked, startled. "You hope that the child does not live?"

"I wish the child had never existed! But since that cannot be, yes, that is what I want. I know it sounds terrible, Katherine, but I can't see any other way for this to end well. Alive, with such treasonous blood, that child can only be a threat."

She said nothing, could think of nothing to say. She had wanted to speak to Henry about the child, afraid that if it was a boy he would be too pleased at having another son, more proof that he could sire sons, to care about the child's mother. She feared that he would honor the child as he had planned to honor young Fitzroy, before the boy's untimely death. But apparently he did not even want his child to draw breath.

That was going too far. While she agreed that Jane Seymour's child should never be a potential heir, even if Henry never had a legitimate son and was allowed to legitimize a bastard, the babe was also an innocent. He or she did not deserve to be blamed for the Seymour siblings' treason, and had as much of a right to life as the half-sibling Thomas Seymour had callously murdered. But she recognized Henry's mood, and knew she could say nothing of this now.

She had expected to have to speak against too many honors for this child. She had not expected to find herself in a position where her conscience would say she had to be the little one's advocate. But she didn't think she had a choice; if it was left up to Henry, God knew what his newest child's fate would be.

A/N: And so Thomas is dead… Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.


	33. Neither Wrong Nor Right

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 32 – Neither Wrong Nor Right:**_ "You want to what?" Hal said blankly, staring at his wife in shock. They were in their bedchamber at their Chelsea home. They had returned for a few days, wanting to see their son again, and, honestly, just wanting to get away from the court for a while. Both of them occasionally felt as though they could no longer stand the oppressive atmosphere there. Everyone was still treading very carefully, as the King was easily angered. Now, of course, it was clear that Kate had wanted to make the trip for other reasons, namely to discuss a matter that could get them in a lot of trouble if anyone else heard of it.

"I would like to suggest, if the King does not already have a plan for his child by Jane Seymour, that we take the baby in."

"Why would we want to foster a traitor's bastard?" he asked harshly.

She did not back down. "Because, that child has done nothing wrong! Don't you see, Hal? Yes, the baby was Thomas Seymour's motive, but is it fair to blame a little boy or girl who hasn't even been born yet?" Because he still looked unhappy, she turned to an argument she had told herself she would not use. "Isn't there some treason in your own family? How would you feel if Nathaniel was looked down upon for that? I want to take this child in so that doesn't happen to someone who is also a victim of this mess!"

Hal was silent, a muscle in his jaw twitching. She knew she had struck a nerve with him, but it had to be done. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Jane's child, about the life that the poor thing would have if no one stepped forward to make sure that the bastard of a King and a traitoress had a chance for a future. Maybe it was her own motherhood, still a new thing, that made her want to help Jane's child, but it didn't really matter. If she could find a way to help, she was going to.

Hal ran a hand through his hair. "Why is it that so few things are simple with you?" he asked tiredly.

"So you'll support me in this?"

"You're right, the baby's done nothing. And something will have to be done; better us than someone who might decide to make a pretender of the child someday."

"Now I just have to figure when and how to suggest the idea, not to mention who I should speak with first."

"I'll let you take care of that part, shall I? It is your idea, after all."

* * *

Margaret was walking out in the gardens, tired of remaining inside. Recently she had been keeping to her rooms, mostly because until Anne and Edward Seymour had come forward, she had been the prime suspect in the attack on Anne. The whispers that had followed her were annoying, so she had avoided them. And besides, she had not been feeling well.

Of course, she knew why that was. Even when they were screaming at each other or simply being cold and silent, the physical aspect of her relationship with Charles remained, and she was pregnant again. It could not have come at a worse time – or perhaps, not at a better time. It was ridiculous, really, how that fool Seymour's attack on Anne could have so many consequences, but that was the royal court. One man's plot affected so many people; it had always been that way.

And so her marriage was a complete shambles, whereas before it had just been tense. She could admit that some of it she had brought on herself – that weasel Cromwell had mentioned that servants had overheard her ranting about Anne – but the fact that Charles had not defended her… She pushed the thought aside, not wanting to get angry again. Perhaps it was the faint lethargy that accompanied this pregnancy, as it had done with her first, but she was sick of being angry. She just wanted to fix things now, so that life could go on.

There were times when she wished that she could go back in time, to long before she'd ever dared to marry a man so far beneath her, to the days when she and her siblings had lived together at Eltham Palace. She was the youngest, so she didn't remember as much as the others did, but she remembered enough to know that those were simpler times, easier times. Arthur had never given himself airs the way Henry did, and Henry himself had been a cheerful playmate for an energetic young girl, while their sister Mary stood off to one side, giggling at their antics but never taking part. Back then, they used to daydream about growing up, and how life would be perfect. They'd been wrong, unfortunately.

At first, she thought the sound of children's laughter was coming from her mind, but it didn't take her long to realize her mistake. Just around one of the ornamental hedges was her niece Mary… No, her _nieces_, Mary and Cecily. She might not want to be related to Anne Boleyn's children, but the little girl was Henry's daughter, there was no denying that. The Carey children played with their cousin, and Cathy was there as well with Edward in tow. He was playing with the Carey boy, the two of them absorbed in what, if she had to guess, was a pitched battle of wooden soldiers. Cecily and Catherine Carey appeared to have dolls, while Mary and Cathy sat on a nearby bench, talking. A governess – Margaret was fairly certain it was Cecily's – kept a watchful eye on the scene.

She had stepped forward automatically at the sight of her son with that Carey child, but had made herself step back again. She could not afford to lose her temper over something like this again, not after what had happened last time. She didn't think she had ever been in real danger of the Tower – Cromwell would have needed very strong evidence before he dared to charge a King's sister with such a serious crime. But the effect it had had on her life… It had caused more than enough damage, and she had no interest in making things worse.

Besides, Edward was enjoying himself, and she'd heard him chattering to his governess about how he loved playing with other small children. She couldn't bring herself to ruin her boy's happiness.

"Margaret?"

"Hello, Charles." This was the same area where they'd spoken years before, just after she'd learned that he was to escort her to Portugal. When she turned to face him, she knew he was remembering that as well.

_"Mr. Brandon. You are not yet invested a duke, I think?"_

_ "No, madam."_

_ "I'm surprised my brother chose a man without noble blood to represent him. Even Norfolk would have been better."_

It had been so easy to despise him as beneath her, and because she found him attractive despite herself. Much simpler than loving him and hating him all at the same time. "Did you want something, Charles?"

"I know you haven't been well lately..." He began, clearly uneasy.

She laughed. "I'm pregnant."

His look of shock was comical, and she could not resist needling him. "Why are you looking at me like that? Surely you're not going to ask how it's possible, as you were right there for the event."

"That wasn't… I… Why didn't you say something before? I was starting to think…" He shook his head. "Never mind. Did you just find out?"

"A week ago, something like that," she said carelessly.

"I see." He looked over her shoulder at the children. "You didn't take Edward away this time."

"No," she said. "Let the children have their fun; it will end for them soon enough."

"Margaret – "

"I think we should leave court."

"What? I thought you had finally accepted the way things are."

She nodded. "I have, yes, but I also don't think it's good for us to be here. It's nothing to do with Edward spending time with his cousins, I know he enjoys it so I have to learn to accept it. It's about us, and what we discussed before. Court is not the place to try to fix things, especially not for us."

"It was losing the right to come here that drove us apart in the first place, wasn't it?" he said, a little bitterly.

"It started it," she agreed. "I don't want to stay away permanently; I imagine that will cause more harm than good. But I think that you and I should return to the country for a while, reacquaint ourselves with each other."

"And Edward?"

"Henry says that he doesn't mind our son joining the royal nursery for now."

Charles' jaw dropped. "He'll be with Cecily and the Careys all the time then. You don't mind?"

"Aren't you the one who told me that it doesn't matter if I mind or not?" She reached out, putting a hand on his arm. "Besides, I think we need some time without distractions, so with such an easy solution, how can I refuse?"

He took the hand that rested on his arm and held it lightly in his own. "I suppose you can't. So, should I make arrangements for us to leave in a few days?"

"I think that would be best, yes."

* * *

Mary could only just see her aunt and uncle behind the hedges, and she wondered what they were talking about. If it wasn't for the fact that they weren't touching, she would have thought that Aunt Margaret was being held back by her husband, to prevent a scene like that of a few months ago, but that didn't seem to be the case.

"They've been spending more time together," Cathy said, following her friend's gaze. "The accusations against Princess Margaret made things very tense between her and my lord Suffolk, and they were already tense. I remember they used to shout at each other all the time, but they seem to be trying to go back to how they were."

"How they were?"

"They married in secret, didn't they? I've always thought that they had to have been deeply in love back then, and I think they're trying to get it back."

Mary nodded. "That's probably true." She looked at the toddlers playing and said, "I'm just glad she left Edward with us this time – we don't need another scene after everything that's happened lately."

"No, we certainly don't. How…?" Cathy trailed off, not sure how to phrase the question, or even if she should ask it.

"How are things with my rather complicated family now that we have all the answers? Honestly, I'm not sure. Mama's been a little… distant for the past few days, ever since she spoke to Father the day that Seymour was executed. I've only seen Anne once, and that briefly – I took Cecily to see her yesterday. I haven't spoken to my father at all, but it's obvious he's preoccupied with the matter of Jane's child."

"Well, that's no surprise." Cathy tilted her head. "And you? The last time we talked about this, you were really upset."

"I'm better now," Mary said. "It looks as though everything will be all right this time, and Father's treatment of Jane seems to show that he's learned something from this. He might still take mistresses now and then, but I don't think he'll risk any of them believing that they might become more than a temporary distraction."

"You still seem preoccupied, though."

"Oh, it's nothing."

"Mary…"

"You heard that the Dauphin of France died recently, didn't you?"

"Of course, but… Oh. You were betrothed to him, weren't you?"

Mary nodded. "I met him once, when I was little. He didn't like it when I gave him a kiss, so I knocked him down."

"And I thought Cecily's mischievous streak came from Lady Anne. Apparently it was your fault!"

Mary gave her friend a mock-glare. "I can't be sad that he's dead, I didn't know him well enough, but… His brother is already married, and so is the Emperor. His son is too young for me – that's why Ambassador Chapuys is trying to secure Cecily for the Prince – but what about me? I know it's foolish to be thinking about it when things have only just calmed down, but I can't help but worry a little. I can't think of any other royal suitors, except perhaps my cousin in Scotland, and I think he's planning to marry Marie of Guise."

Cathy gave Mary a sympathetic look. "I'm sure your father will make a wonderful match for you, Mary. It's just a matter of giving him a chance to find one. You're only fifteen."

"I know. As I said, it's foolish, but I couldn't help but think about it."

"Well, there's a good side to it – the longer before your marriage, the more time you have here with your family."

Mary smiled. "There is that."

* * *

Cromwell straightened the papers on his desk, only just managing to keep himself calm. He was hardly undignified enough to grin or otherwise act like a fool, but he did allow a slight smile to cross his lips. He'd gotten it. The King had told him that his position as interim Lord Chancellor was to become permanent. This had been his goal since entering royal service. Now, if he saw a chance to further reform in England, he would be much better placed to encourage it.

Still, that didn't mean that everything was easy now. More's abrupt departure had disrupted things, and while he'd begun setting it all to rights when he'd first taken up the position, the attack on the Lady Anne had almost immediately occupied the greater portion of his time. So now he had a bit of a mess to clear up.

It wasn't that unusual – he'd heard that More had also faced some disorder when he'd taken the position after Wolsey's death, but that didn't stop Cromwell from feeling some irritation toward the other man. Wolsey had died suddenly; he couldn't have put things in a better order. More had resigned, and Cromwell didn't see why he couldn't have taken the time to settle everything. _He likely thought leaving as he did made some grand statement_, Cromwell thought sardonically, rolling his eyes.

Pushing the irritation away, he set to work going through the various documents that had piled up during the investigation. Now that Thomas Seymour was dead, leaving Jane and Edward in the Tower, he could do so. In several months' time, of course, the matter would come up again, when Jane was executed, and as for Edward… It seemed that he would only be kept imprisoned, for an amount of time that had not yet been determined.

But that was irrelevant at the moment, he reminded himself as he continued work. Well, it would be, except for one thing. The King had decided he wanted nothing to do with his half-Seymour bastard. "Do something about it, come up with a place for the child. I want to hear nothing of it, Master Cromwell."

He wasn't entirely sure what the best plan would be. Dropping a child in a monastery – the simplest solution – was anathema to him, given his hatred of such places, but what else could he do? He could have some gentry family take in the baby as a fosterling but that ran the risk of said family setting the child up as a pretender. If only the King had given some hint of what he thought was appropriate.

Well, for now it wasn't a pressing concern. Later, once the child was born, perhaps things would be different. And for the moment, he had a lot to do, and not much time in which to do it. The next court in the Star Chamber was coming up, and it wouldn't do for him to be unprepared.

* * *

Anne could tell immediately that something was on Katherine's mind, even as they spoke of light topics like what Mary and Cecily were up to, or the latest news at court. Finally, she couldn't stand the curiosity any longer. "Is something wrong?"

Katherine paused for a moment, and then said, "I spoke to Henry, about his child with…"

"With Jane," Anne said quietly. The fact that Jane was going to be able to give Henry his next child, when it should have been her, was painful, but she wanted to know what was going on. If Henry planned to honor his bastard, she needed to know that. It would be easier if she was prepared for it.

Years ago, she had wondered how Katherine could stand to toast Henry Fitzroy's birth. Now that she might be called upon to stand by and watch as Jane Seymour's bastard was honored in the place of her own child… "What did he say?" she asked, her voice as steady as she could manage.

"He said that he… He would rather Jane miscarried."

"What?"

"I don't even know if he intends to acknowledge the child."

Anne looked down at her hands, carefully folded in her lap. She had no idea what to say to that. On the one hand, she felt relief, and hated herself for it. But if Henry didn't acknowledge the baby, she would never have to see him or her, or remember that the child was the reason Thomas Seymour had murdered her son. "What did you say when he told you that?"

"Nothing, but I intend to."

Anne stared at her confused. "What are you going to say to him?"

"He can't just ignore this, Anne. He has a responsibility to provide for a child he fathered. I'm not going to advocate any honors for the baby, but Henry has to at least ensure that the child has a chance to lead a decent life."

"Why?" Deep down Anne knew she was being unfair, that no matter what Thomas and Jane had done, Jane's baby was innocent, but she couldn't help the question. "Why should Jane's child have a chance for a good life when because of its mother and uncle, mine won't live at all?"

"Anne…"

"Why are you going to do this? After Henry Fitzroy, I can't believe you'd want Henry to do anything for another bastard."

"I did not like it when Henry celebrated his son's birth so extravagantly, but it would have been wrong for him to do the opposite and pretend that Lady Blount's son did not exist. The same is true now. I can't simply allow him to pretend that he did not father a child. I can understand that you don't want to see Jane's son or daughter, and I'm not about to tell him that his illegitimate child should be raised with Cecily. All I'm going to ask of him is that he places the child with a good foster family and that he supplies enough money for a girl's dowry or a boy's schooling. I don't expect you to want to be involved. I ask only that you not try to stop me from convincing Henry to do this."

Anne looked away, staring at the wall. How could Katherine do this to her? Didn't she know…? But of course she did, or nearly. "I just…"

Katherine hesitated, not sure if she should make the gesture, but she reached over and took the younger woman's hand. Startled, Anne's head whipped around. "I'm not trying to hurt you by doing this," Katherine explained. "I just can't let Henry blame an innocent, and this child is innocent, Anne."

Anne bit her lip. Could she really hate a child, even Jane's child, for existing? Was she really capable of that? Part of her wanted to be, and yet…

Mary and Kate had thought she was asleep, and so didn't know that she heard them talking about Jane.

_"She said what?" Mary demanded._

_ "Apparently, that milksop whore said that she would 'try to be kind' to Cecily if she became the next handmaid," Kate hissed._

_ "That little… If the King doesn't have her killed, I swear I'll…" _

_ "I'll help, don't worry." _

Jane would have done everything in her power to hurt Cecily, to lower her status, and why? Because for some reason, she'd decided that Anne was her sworn enemy. She'd barely taken any notice of Jane! But just because she knew what Jane would have done, did that mean she ought to react in kind? Wouldn't that make her just as bad?

Taking a deep breath, she squeezed Katherine's hand slightly, just to signify that she wasn't too upset. Not with Katherine at any rate. "I understand that. But… I don't want anything to do with it. I can't. I won't try to stop you, though."

"That's all I can ask from you, about this."

Anne nodded. It was all that could be asked of her, wasn't it? She had no responsibility to Jane's child, absolutely none. But then, why did some part of her feel as though, perhaps, she was more like Jane than she cared to admit?


	34. Between What is Right and What is Easy

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 33 – Between What is Right and What is Easy:**_ It was a full two and a half months before Linacre declared Anne healthy enough to go out among the court again, and even then, she was not to spend too much time engaging in anything strenuous. She didn't need the admonition; she felt mostly herself again, but her ribs were still a little sore and her ankle hurt occasionally when she stood for too long. He would never admit it, but she suspected part of the doctor was pleased about that – if her own body was signaling her to take it easy, it would be far more effective than any verbal warnings he could give her.

The only thing that worried her was that Linacre banned her from sharing Henry's bed for a further two months. He wasn't sure, he said, if there would be any risk from her conceiving sooner, but he would prefer to err on the side of caution. Henry had agreed, so Anne told herself there was nothing to be concerned about. Even if Henry took another mistress – and he seemed so shaken by the effects of his last liaison that it wasn't likely – she knew that there would be no danger in it.

But not everything was perfect. While she and Katherine had come to a new understanding of their place in each other's lives (although as yet they'd mostly left it alone, deciding to just let things happen for now), something was clearly wrong with Katherine and Henry. That, more than anything else, was why Anne wasn't trying to figure out exactly what the recent revelations between her and Katherine would mean for them in the long run; she was too worried about the tension to want to push the matter.

It wasn't hard to guess what the problem was. They hadn't been this way when she'd first left her chambers – it started a few weeks later – so she was pretty sure she knew what it was. Katherine must have gone through with her plan to convince Henry to acknowledge and support his child by Jane. Clearly, he had not taken it well, and since things only seemed to be getting worse, she suspected that Katherine was struggling to make her point.

She always pushed the thought away, though. Katherine never interfered between her and Henry – well, not since coming up with the plan to put Anne in Henry's sights in the first place – except to offer advice. Anne didn't feel she had a right to do any more than that, and she had no advice to give. It wasn't her affair. Or so she told herself. The problem was, the more she told herself that, the less she believed it.

Oh, it wasn't as though there was any pressure on her. Katherine had kept her word and not brought up the matter of Jane's child, but that didn't mean Anne wasn't thinking about it. It was hard not to, when she was spending so much time in the nursery with Cecily and the other children, Edward Brandon, Harry, and Missy. She kept thinking about another child, one who would not have it so easy.

But was she obligated to do anything? She knew Katherine well enough to know that the other woman wouldn't give up just because Henry was displeased, so did she really have to intervene?

* * *

Mary wasn't sure what to do. She had been relieved when she heard that her father had no interest in his unborn bastard child, but then she'd found out that her mother was speaking up in favor of the baby. She just didn't understand why.

She was pacing in her room, Cathy standing near the closed door, finally unable to keep quiet. "I don't understand why she can't just let it be. She was hurt so badly by the way Father celebrated Henry Fitzroy's birth, why would she want to put Anne through the same thing when they're friends?"

"Mary, I – "

"And it's worse than that! At least Henry Fitzroy's mother wasn't a traitor! Some people are even saying that my mother suggested that the baby be raised in the nursery with Cecily! Doesn't she see how dangerous the baby could be if someone decides to set him or her up as a pretender?"

"_Mary_." When her friend looked over at her, Cathy continued. "Have you even asked your mother about these rumors?"

"No," the princess admitted. "I don't want to know if it's true."

Cathy shook her head. "Well, I can at least tell you that your mother certainly wasn't suggesting that Jane's baby be raised with Cecily."

"How do you know that?"

Cathy grinned. "I talked to Kate, of course."

"Kate?"

"I thought she'd be likely to know at least some of the truth behind the rumors that have been circulating."

"I didn't know you knew about them."

"Mary, if they're popular enough that you know about them, then I certainly would. People try to keep you from hearing such stories; they don't fret when it's me."

Mary scowled. She knew that, and hated it. Yes, she was a princess, but she didn't need to be coddled. If her betrothed hadn't died, she'd likely be on her way to France to be a wife and mother before the year was out. So she was hardly a child. "So what did she say – and how does she know anything anyway?"

"It's Kate, she always knows something. As for how she manages that, I think she talks to the servants, but I can't prove it. At any rate, she has her sources, and your mother never said anything about Jane Seymour's child being raised in the royal nursery. All she wants your father to do is take responsibility for the child, to ensure he or she is placed with a good foster family – out in the country, of course – and that he pays for the child's upkeep and education. I don't even think she's asking him to acknowledge the child, not if he doesn't want to. She just doesn't want him to leave his son or daughter to fate."

Mary bit her lip. "Still, it's risky, isn't it? I mean, what if the child is a boy, and learns of his parentage? Everyone knows why Jane hasn't been executed yet, so even if Father doesn't acknowledge his son – and traitorous mother or not, I can't help but think that my father would want to acknowledge a son – it might not be too difficult for him to convince people he's the King's son, and then…"

"I don't think that will happen. For one thing, Lady Anne still has plenty of time to give the King a son, and who would support a half-traitor bastard ahead of legitimate, true-blooded children? Even if the King never gets a legitimate son, no one would support Jane Seymour's child over you, or Cecily either."

"Still, I wonder why my mother took up the child's case so strongly, after when happened with Henry Fitzroy."

"Your mother's a good woman, and right now I think the King intends to just dump his child somewhere and forget the whole matter. She can't let him do that, can she?"

"No, no she can't. And I suppose… This child will be my brother or sister; I can't blame it for what has already happened. I don't even have a right to, really. I just hope Mama doesn't push Father too far, though. That could be bad for all of us."

* * *

Card games were not Katherine's favorite pastime, but they were more distracting than embroidery, and Anne was particularly good at most of them, making it more of a challenge. She needed to focus on something else right now, if only to take a break from worrying. Her campaign to get Henry to do right by his coming bastard had come to nothing, and it was making her own position worse. The last time she had spoken to him about it, just before the Christmas revels, had led to a coldness between them that was worse than any she'd ever experienced, and he had not softened at all, though it was now mid-January. That last scene had been quite terrible…

_"I don't see why you think you have the right to tell me what to do about the Seymour wench's child," Henry snapped, glaring at his wife. Katherine met his furious stare with her own steady gaze, knowing that she could not back down now. She was in the right, and therefore she had to press on. _

_ "Henry, all I am saying is – "_

_ "You don't know what you're talking about, Katherine! I can't acknowledge that child, not when it cost me a legitimate Prince. I can't let Anne see me do that, when she lost our son because of Jane's bastard! I will not allow that family the satisfaction of seeing their offspring named as my child. I'm having Cromwell take care of things, and I am certain that he will give the child to people who will raise it to a proper station in life, far away from the court where no true member of my family will ever have to see it." _

_ Katherine stared at him, wondering if he could see the grimness of the plan he had made. "It's not the child's fault, Henry. Whatever happened, he or she is innocent. At worst, the child was used as an excuse, but since it is still unborn, it could not help that." _

_ "I don't care!" he screamed, right in his wife's face. She took a step back despite herself as Henry raged on. "I want it over with! Finished! And I never want to see that child! I don't care if it's mine or not, it's the child of a traitor and it is enough mercy that I did not give orders for the mother to be executed while still pregnant, so that her spawn could die with her!" _

_ Katherine stared at him, horror rendering her speechless. Finally she said, "Henry…"_

_ "If you cannot see the danger this child presents, then I wonder if you are perhaps glad that I've lost a Prince. Maybe for all your supposed 'help' thus far, you were only acting, ensuring that you appeared to be at peace with Anne being in my life. But perhaps you are not. Perhaps you see her children as a threat to Mary, and so you encourage me to take this other child, because it will undermine my children by Anne. Is that it, Katherine?"_

_ "No, Henry, I simply feel sympathy for a child whose prospects were ruined before its birth, and I had thought you might as well."_

_ "Who should feel sympathy for a traitor's child? Get out." _

"Katherine?" Anne's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and Katherine looked up, startled.

"Yes?"

"It's your…" Anne shook her head, setting down her cards. "Never mind. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Katherine said quickly. This subject was one she'd promised never to bring up to Anne again, and she wasn't about to break that promise. But the look she was getting from Anne said that the other woman didn't believe her.

"You're having trouble with Henry, because of Jane's child." Anne said. It wasn't a question. Katherine wasn't sure what to say, but finally decided that the truth would be best. She wasn't dealing with a child here, after all, and she suspected that Anne would know if she was being lied to.

"Yes, I am," she admitted. "It's fine, though, or it will be, eventually." That was a lie, or nearly. She was not as convinced of it as she would have liked.

"Why? Did you talk him into doing more, and now he resents you for it?"

"He won't even listen to me, he will do nothing," Katherine said before she could stop herself. "He seems to prefer the thought that the child not live, and I…" She stopped. "I'm sorry. I said before that I would not bring it up again."

"But you didn't. I did. He won't listen to you at all? What does he intend to do?"

"He's leaving it all to Master Cromwell's discretion."

"What? But… He doesn't want… He isn't going to have any involvement in his child's life?"

Katherine shook her head. "I am still hoping that he will come around once the child is born, but at the moment…"

"It's got to do with me, doesn't it? Is he afraid I'll react badly if he acknowledges his child?"

"No, he just doesn't want to point to a traitor's child as his." Technically it was only a half-lie, but it was still partly a lie.

"He did say something about me, didn't he?"

How did she do it? Katherine was quite good at lying – the ability required self-control, which all royal children were taught, and enough intelligence to create a convincing story, but little else – even though she was not fond of doing so. But Anne had always been better at picking up on it when she avoided questions, far better than Henry. In some ways it was aggravating, but in others… She had spent so much time learning to read Henry, but he had never much cared about trying to understand her. That Anne put in that effort meant something, even when it was inconvenient.

"He doesn't want to hurt you, but that doesn't mean that you should feel obliged to speak up. As I said before, all I can ask of you in this matter is that you not try to make him less willing to help his child."

Anne nodded. "That may be true, and yet… I've been thinking about it." She picked up one of her cards, toying with it. "I didn't want to have anything to do with Jane's child, and in some ways I still don't."

Katherine opened her mouth to say something, but Anne shook her head. "I said in some ways. It's painful, knowing that she's going to give Henry a child when thanks to her brother, I lost mine. But… I would like to think that I would never be in Jane's position, that faced with the same choice she was I would have told someone instead of trying to cover it up. But that doesn't mean I haven't done things I'm not proud of, or that my family hasn't done some things I'm a little ashamed of. I wouldn't want anyone to ever hold anything like that against Cecily. How can I hold Thomas and Jane's actions against a baby, especially one who will be a little brother or sister to my own daughter?"

"Anne…"

"No, I have to explain. I've not been able to stop thinking about it. It's seeing Cecily with her cousins, especially now that little Ned's staying in the nursery since Brandon and Margaret are off doing… Well, I'm not entirely sure why they didn't want their son with them, but at any rate, with all of them around… I keep thinking about Jane's child. I don't want him or her in the nursery, I couldn't handle that, but I can't help but think that someday, Cecily or any other children I might have could want to know their half-sibling, and the same goes for Mary. And… so might Henry. I don't want that child to lose out on relationships with his or her siblings and father because I had a hard time coping."

Katherine nodded, trying not to show how surprised she was. "So you've… changed your mind?"

Anne nodded. "I'll talk to Henry, since he's not listening to you. Unless – do you think I might make it worse?"

"I doubt that. In fact… You might be the only one he will listen to."

"You should have told me that before then."

"As I said, I wasn't going to force you into this."

"I think the fate of an innocent child is a bit more important than my having to face something hard a little more quickly," Anne said matter-of-factly. "It just took me a little while to realize that."

* * *

It took Kate a few days after hearing bits and pieces of the conversation between Anne and the Queen to get up her nerve to approach her mistress. "My lady?"

"Kate, honestly, I thought I'd broken you of that habit. What is it?"

"I… I apologize, but a few days ago, when you spoke with the Queen, I could not help but hear what was said, and I wondered if you had talked to the King yet?"

Anne raised an eyebrow. "No, I have not. Is there a reason why you wanted to know that?"

Kate nodded. "There is, actually. When you speak to the King… I'm sure he won't want the child in the nursery, and I know you don't either. That makes perfect sense, but the baby will need to go somewhere. Hal and I would be willing to foster him or her, if the King is agreeable to the idea."

Anne's eyes widened. "Have you discussed this with Hal?"

"Yes, and he's agreeable."

"Kate… How long have you been considering this?"

Kate looked down. "Quite a while, actually. It was my idea, not Hal's, so if you don't approve, don't be upset with him."

Anne shook her head. "I'm not upset, just surprised. Are you sure about this? It could be a problem for you – I know my uncle still hasn't accepted you."

"He's not going to, and besides, this isn't about how others will react. It's about giving a child a good home, and making sure that he or she grows up loyal. I don't think anyone wants to risk leaving him with what's left of his mother's family."

"No, certainly not. All right. When I talk to the King about this, I'll mention it to him."

"Thank you."

* * *

Sarah Bennett did not look like someone who would be a capable midwife. Instead, with her delicately pretty looks, she appeared to be someone who would soon be in need of a midwife herself, when some boy could no longer resist her. But she was from a family of accomplished midwives, and had been raised to the work.

Her name offset her appearance more often than not, but she suspected that the manservant who had hired her in the King's name – though he reported to Master Cromwell, not the King – had only based things off looks. He had even said to her that she would be in no trouble if the birth did not go well. That was not something a midwife commonly heard.

She could understand, in some ways. Jane Seymour was a traitoress, after all, but her child – if rumor was to be believed – was still the King's. And King's child or no, the babe had done nothing wrong. So Sarah disregarded that comment, along with the veiled hints that if she were to allow the birth to go wrong, there might be more money in it for her. Her mother and aunts had talked about bastard births before, and how sometimes one person or another might want the midwife to deliberately harm the child. They had always told her not to do that, that the fates of the child and those who wished it ill were up to God, but keeping innocent blood off her own hands was her duty.

Her patient's labor pains had begun just before dawn, and it was now mid-afternoon, or so Sarah guessed from the bit of sunlight she could see through the tiny window. Jane was screaming and sobbing, though weakly now. It was clear that her strength was ebbing. Quickly, Sarah pressed a cup of an herbal tincture to the other woman's lips, exhorting her to drink as much as she could. Jane gasped and gave her midwife a sullen look, but complied.

"How… what…?" Jane tried to force out a question between pants, but it didn't work that well.

"It's to give you strength," Sarah said briskly. After a quick check, she saw that the baby was crowning. "You've almost done it," she said bracingly. "Just one more push and you'll be fine."

Jane nodded and pushed one last time. With a scream from the mother, the baby was born, and Sarah caught the newborn up quickly, delivering a brisk slap to the buttocks to make the child cry.

"You have a son, madam," she said as she wrapped the child up in a blanket, handing him to his mother. Jane took the child, but there was no trace of the usual tired joy of a new mother. That was no surprise, Sarah reflected, since this particular mother wouldn't even live to see her child cut his first tooth. She wondered what would become of the little boy. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything too harsh, since the poor mite already had his mother's legacy and his bastard status – not to mention a rather unpleasant place of birth, in a jail cell – counting against him.

Still, she'd done her duty in bringing the child into the world alive and apparently healthy. As she'd always been told, the rest was in God's hands.

* * *

Anne waited until their meal was almost finished before she brought it up. "Henry?"

"Yes, sweetheart? Is something wrong?"

"No, I was just wondering… Have you decided what you're going to do about your child? Jane's baby?"

Henry paled slightly. "Anne, you don't have to worry about that," he said reassuringly. "I've told Cromwell to handle it. I will never have anything to do with the child, and you won't ever have to see him or her."

"Henry… You can't do that."

His expression was almost comical, it was so shocked. Under other circumstances, she might have laughed. "Anne, what's brought this on?"

"Nothing. I just don't want to see a child punished because Thomas and Jane Seymour are traitors."

"Has Katherine talked you into this? Because I swear, if – "

"No," Anne said quickly, before Henry became so angry that he wouldn't listen to her. "Katherine doesn't have anything to do with this." It was probably best if Henry didn't even know that she'd discussed the subject with Katherine, in case he got the wrong idea. "I've been thinking about it ever since I first heard she was pregnant," she explained. "At first I didn't want to get involved, but… That child is Cecily's brother or sister, and I don't want to see him or her punished."

"But… That child was the excuse for Seymour attacking you!"

"And for that, I blame Thomas Seymour, and Jane for being happy to hide her brother's actions. But, Henry, you can't blame your child for that. Without Jane, he or she will need the love of a still-living parent – you."

Henry studied her carefully. "Are you sure, sweetheart?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't want Jane's child raised in the nursery, but I'd like to see a good foster family found, and for you to acknowledge the child."

Henry nodded. "All right. If you truly want this, I'll do it." He paused before asking, "Do you have anyone in mind to raise the baby?"

"Actually, yes. Kate – Lady Surrey – offered to take on the responsibility."

"Really?"

"They already have a small son, and I would trust Kate and Hal to raise a child well, and they're very loyal to us."

"Yes, they certainly are." Henry gave her a slight smile. "I'll take care of it later."

"You don't have to wait, I'd be perfectly all right with you handling it now," she said, not wanting him to change his mind later if he delayed.

"Well, all right," Henry said, feeling faintly bewildered. Then he gestured for a page, telling him to bring the Lord Chancellor immediately. While waiting, Henry turned the conversation to other things, but he wasn't really paying attention.

Anne trusted Surrey and his wife, and from what he'd seen she had good reason. Lady Surrey certainly was devoted to Anne, and so having Jane's child raised by them could only be a good thing. Their loyal natures would lead to them raising him to be just as loyal, offsetting his traitor's blood. It had never occurred to him before that simply hiding the child away might not be enough, not if blood proved too much to overcome. Without proper countering, such a child could grow up to be a traitor, even when unaware of the royal blood in its veins.

Cromwell arrived quickly enough, considering that his office was on the other side of the palace. He bowed to Henry and Anne, waiting for Henry to elaborate on why he'd been summoned. "I've changed my mind on the matter of Jane Seymour's child," Henry explained. "Once she is delivered, the child is to be given to the Earl and Countess of Surrey, and will be known by the surname of Fitzroy."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Cromwell said with a nod, but he looked uncomfortable, as though he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if it was appropriate to do so yet.

"What is it, man?" Henry said, not wanting to deal with any hesitation.

"I received word from the Tower just before you summoned me, Your Majesty. It seems that Jane Seymour has given birth to a son, and she wishes to have him christened Henry."

"No. She can name her son, but she will not give him my name," Henry said sharply. He did not want that. He'd planned to call his son, the prince Anne had lost, Henry, and his dead son's illegitimate half-brother did not deserve the name.

"I will make sure she and the Surreys know that," Cromwell said, nodding.

"That's all I wanted," Henry said. Cromwell took that for the dismissal it was and left to do as he was ordered. Henry turned back to Anne.

"Well, sweetheart? Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes, it was, Henry. You did the right thing."

He certainly hoped so. And if he was honest with himself, part of him was pleased by the birth; if God granted him an illegitimate son with a traitor, then surely He would give Anne a boy as well. Perhaps young Fitzroy's birth was a good omen, despite the events leading up to it. Maybe his new son was a sign that all would soon be well.

A/N: OK, so one more chapter left in 1531, and then we jump to 1533.


	35. Through a Glass Darkly

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 34 – Through a Glass Darkly:**_ When the Earl of Surrey arrived in his office, Cromwell was surprised that the younger man was accompanied by his wife. But he knew better than to remark on it; it was known that the Surreys were somewhat unconventional.

"My lord, my lady," he said, inclining his head.

"Master Cromwell," Surrey said with a nod. "You had some message for me, from the King?"

"Yes. His Majesty has decided that you and your wife are to be foster parents to his bastard son."

"Jane Seymour had a boy then?" Lady Surrey asked. Cromwell nodded.

"Does he have a name yet?" Surrey wanted to know.

"No. But the King has said he does not want him called Henry."

"Hardly a surprise," Surrey mused. "So, will someone be sent to collect the boy?"

"I'll do it," Lady Surrey said.

"Kate…" Surrey began, sounding exasperated.

"My lady, that really is not necessary," Cromwell said.

"There's no reason to leave it to a manservant, and I would like the opportunity to speak to Jane in any case," the lady insisted.

"Are you certain that's wise, Kate?" Surrey asked.

"Absolutely."

The Countess of Surrey had never seemed to be a particularly frightening person, but there was something in her eyes that made Cromwell just a bit edgy. It certainly looked as though Jane Seymour would have one final ordeal to go through before her execution, which was to occur as soon as possible. Not surprising, really – everyone knew how loyal the young countess was to Lady Anne. It would certainly be quite a conversation between the two women, he imagined.

Lady Surrey turned to him then. "There won't be any problem with that, will there, Master Cromwell?"

Technically, no, even if it was rather unusual. "Of course not, my lady. I simply did not wish you to inconvenience yourself when it would be an easy matter to send someone."

"It's not an inconvenience at all."

Leaving the Chancellor's office, Kate allowed herself a faint smile. Hal noticed. "Kate, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing particularly dramatic. I've simply wanted a chance for a private conversation with Jane for some time now. This is my last chance to have it."

"Just don't kill her."

"I won't." She tilted her head when he gave her a skeptical look. "I've a few things to say to her, and then I'll leave. It's that simple, Hal."

"I certainly hope so."

* * *

"Your companion made the offer without being asked?" Katherine asked incredulously.

"According to her, she'd been thinking about it for a while," Anne said with a shrug, absently threading a needle. "It doesn't surprise me, really."

"I don't know Lady Surrey that well," Katherine admitted. "Her mother was one of my ladies, but while Maud Parr never gave me reason to complain, I can't see her offering to do what her daughter and Lord Surrey are doing. Isn't she worried about causing conflict with the family?"

"No, I don't think so. From what she's said, her mother doesn't really care what she does so long as she remains in royal favor – she desperately wanted at least one of her children to marry into a title, and Kate's done that, which is enough for her mother. Apparently she's currently trying to get her son married to the Earl of Essex's heiress. As for my uncle, he's never going to like her, and all of us in the family know that, so they aren't worried about him."

"It's uncommon for such a young couple, even with their rank, to be so… reckless about their elders' opinions."

Anne laughed at that. 'Reckless' was one way to describe it. "I don't think they need to worry. I know you watch the court dynamics – you taught me to understand it better just by example – so you might have noticed that they have a flair for drawing the other young courtiers to them."

"Mary and her friend Mistress Cathy as well," Katherine said dryly. "But yes, I have noticed. And I imagine Henry must be grateful that they offered, which will only make things better for them."

"Oh, without a doubt." Anne hesitated, and then said, "Are… Have things eased up, with you and Henry?"

"A bit. Now that his son is settled and everything is taken care of, he seems to have returned to his original opinion of my request – that I meant well but was perhaps being too soft-hearted toward a traitor's child. I think he's still annoyed that I kept pressing him, though."

"That's something, at least."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"It can't have been easy to speak up for Jane's child, and though you told me why, I wanted to make sure you're all right," Katherine explained.

"As well as can be expected."

Katherine gave the other woman a sharp look. That was an evasion if she ever heard one. Anne met her stare for stare, until finally sighing and looking away. "I'm fine. Does it still bother me, knowing that Jane's son exists? Of course it does. I don't think there will be a time when it won't, at least a little." Then, tilting her head, she added, "Is that the look you give Mary when you know she's been into some sort of mischief, because if so I'll have to remember it to use on Cecily."

Katherine almost made a sharp response, until she saw Anne's sly smile and the amused glint in her eyes and realized that the other woman was trying to lighten the mood. So instead she said, "I'm afraid it's impossible to learn for anyone outside the family of Queen Isabella."

"Well, that's unfortunate."

"I suppose you could try, though I doubt you'll have any success."

"Hmm. We'll see then, won't we?"

* * *

Jane told herself that she had to be grateful for the King's orders. Wardships were common for noble and gentry children, after all, and it made sense that he would want his son to have the very best. It didn't mean that he was going to kill her, just that the King's son raised by a convicted traitor – no matter how unfair the sentence – wasn't exactly appropriate. And at least her son wasn't to be placed in Anne's care.

The door to her cell opened and the Countess of Surrey stepped inside. "What are you doing here?" Jane demanded, shock and dislike making her forget herself. Katherine Parr was Anne Boleyn's partisan and everyone knew it, so whatever the other woman had to say, Jane was sure she did not want to hear it.

"I'm going to be raising your child," the other woman said bluntly.

What? No! Lady Surrey was far too close to Anne, she would raise Jane's child to hate his family and to despise himself for being born out of wedlock. How could this be? "The King chose you?" she asked, drawing her tattered dignity around her.

"Yes, he did, and you ought to be grateful. The King would have left him in a monastery or with some country squire, and never bothered to acknowledge him. You have Lady Anne and the Queen to thank for speaking up for your child."

Jane laughed derisively. "You expect me to believe that? The Queen might well have supported him, but I know that the King would never have denied our son. Just as I know that your mistress did all she could to hurt my boy, and getting you and your husband to raise him is part of that. God knows what you will teach him."

"Is that what you tell yourself so that you think you're a good person? Tell me, Jane, is that what you would have done to Cecily or even Mary, given the chance? Foster them out to families who would be cruel, but making it look as though you were doing them some good?" Kate demanded, unable to believe how very deluded the other woman was.

"I would never have hurt Princess Mary, and I would have done my best to be kind to Cecily."

"You would have tried to be kind, in place of a mother who adores her?"

"You're taking my child from a mother who loves him so that he can be raised in a hostile household."

"I'm not stealing him from you – you are going to _die_, Jane, don't you understand that?!"

Jane paled. "The King… he won't… He will spare me."

"No, he won't. He despises you."

"I don't believe you. The King may have been poisoned against me, he may not love me anymore, but he won't kill the mother of his son."

"He was going to refuse to acknowledge your son, Jane; I don't think he cares about you. Perhaps you'll be lucky enough to have an experienced headsman, unlike your brother, but that's all the mercy you can expect."

"No! No! That's not true, he wouldn't do that!"

"You covered up for your brother, who was responsible for the death of a Prince and almost killed the Lady Anne. Your other brother turned him in, and he's still going to be imprisoned until the King feels better about him – which could take years. Do you honestly expect clemency?"

"Stop it, stop it," Jane whispered, covering her ears.

Kate frowned. It was hard to keep pushing at a woman who already looked so broken. "Does your son have a name?" she asked quietly, deciding it was best to change the subject.

"The King said that I cannot call him Henry. I considered Thomas."

Kate's intention to stop being hard on Jane disappeared immediately. "You what? Are you mad?"

"Thomas did what he did to help my son," Jane said stubbornly. "It is fitting."

"You really are an idiot, aren't you? Your brother didn't care about you! Before you incriminated yourself, he told Master Cromwell that you and Edward would plot to put your son on the throne if you weren't locked away. He never had the interests of you or your son at heart, only the benefit to himself as uncle to a prince." Kate shook her head. "He can't be called Thomas, the King would be furious."

Jane frowned. "I want him to have a Seymour name. I… If you're telling me the truth, and the King won't spare me, then it's the only thing I'll be able to give him."

Kate thought the boy would have enough of the Seymours just from his love, and yet… If she were in Jane's place, she would want the same thing.

"What about Edward then?" she suggested, not wanting to have to shoot down another name. Jane would probably suggest John next, for her father, and Kate knew that Sir John Seymour wanted nothing to do with this entire mess. So naming his grandson for him would be a bit rude.

"That fits both sides of his family," Jane observed. "Edward Fitzroy. My son."

The cell door opened, revealing Master Kingston. "Lady Surrey, you're going to have to leave."

Jane flinched, kissing her son before hesitantly handing him to Kate. On an impulse, Kate said, "We're going to raise him as part of the family, and it won't matter that he's not really our son. My word on that."

Jane nodded, a little too quickly, and Kate left the cell. Once outside, she looked down at the baby in her arms. This little boy had everything against him, but with luck she and Hal could change that a little. They had to try at any rate. She'd wanted to give this baby a chance, and so she would. The rest would be up to the King – and of course, Edward himself.

* * *

Edward had a small window in his cell, something that either seemed a blessing or a curse, depending on his mood at the time. On the one hand, it occasionally afforded him something to look at besides his four walls, but on other occasions it only served to remind him that he was no longer part of the world he could look out on.

Still, he reflected as he watched the guards leading his sister in the courtyard below, it could be worse. He still had his life, after all. It might not seem like much when he was here, but eventually he would get out, and then it would be worth it.

As Edward mused on what was left of his future, Jane was being led to her execution by the guards. She didn't fight them, but she could barely walk, so they had to half-drag her. Jane couldn't believe this was really happening. She couldn't believe that she was going to die. Until this morning, she hadn't thought it was true, despite what she'd been told.

_Her door opened to reveal Master Kingston, with a priest standing behind him. "Father Smythe is here to listen to your last confession," the Constable said brusquely. "Your execution is in two hours." _

_ "What? No, the King… He…" _

_ "Two hours," Kingston repeated, before leaving her with the priest._

When the guards had come for her, Jane's legs had given way, which was why they were all but dragging her to Tower Green. She wasn't struggling; what would be the point? It wouldn't do her any good, and it would only make her look worse, make her look guilty. With that in mind, she suddenly found her footing. She was innocent, even if she was going to die; she had done nothing truly wrong. She would not act as though she had.

Her legs still trembled as she walked to the scaffold, but she thought she was managing a decent level of composure. When she was given her chance to speak, she thought for a moment about loudly declaring her innocence, but the thought of her son stopped her. Just in case Lady Surrey was right, maybe she shouldn't make things worse for her boy by saying something that might anger Henry.

She took a deep breath and, after handing the headsman his fee, addressed the crowd, though her eyes were blurred with tears and she could not really see them. "I ask you all to pray for my soul, and for the King, who I have always respected and… and loved." She thought she would break down if she said any more, and while she certainly did not want to speed up her death, she also did not want to die in hysterics.

She tied a cloth around her own face and knelt in the straw, before gripping the rough wood of the block as she leaned down. She whispered the prayers she'd grown up knowing as she stretched out her arms, signaling that she was ready for the blow. Not knowing when it would come, she closed her eyes behind the cloth and thought of her son, that maybe with her gone Henry would accept him, he would –

A/N: Next chapter, we're in 1533, where Katherine and Anne both have to face that children will eventually grow up, a certain foreign noble from season 3 arrives to sweep a young lady off her feet, and Mary Boleyn's romantic antics wreak minor havoc.


	36. A Question of Couples

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 35 – A Question of Couples:**_ "Henry said the Emperor was coming for another state visit, to seal the betrothal between his son and Cecily. But then, I imagine you knew that," Anne said. She and Katherine were playing chess, something they'd only recently started to do. Both of them were good at it, which meant they challenged each other and it was more interesting.

Katherine moved a piece, and then looked up. "Yes, of course I did. Henry told me, _Senor_ Chapuys told me, and my nephew wrote to me asking that I extol the virtues of his little boy, since the last betrothal between our houses went so badly that he fears for this one."

"Yes, Henry said he's a bit suspicious about this. Do you think that the Emperor is sincere about the marriage?"

"I do, but Charles was sincere about marrying Mary, for a time. Still, he only changed his mind because she was too young to bear children. Philip and Cecily are much closer in age."

"So you think it's a sure thing?"

"As much as any royal marriage – or noble one for that matter – can ever be certain before the actual ceremony," Katherine said. "You know almost as well as I do that these things can change – I know you were here when Mary's marriage prospects kept changing and I believe you yourself had a betrothal or two fall through, didn't you?"

"The Ormonde affair, you mean? And of course, George's betrothal to Jane Parker just fell through, so I guess I know what you mean."

"Your brother's not getting married? I thought your father and Lord Morley had come to an agreement?"

"Morley changed the terms, and Father got tired of it," Anne shrugged. "George isn't put out, so I imagine they're better off. About Cecily, though, I'm glad the Emperor is bringing his son, because it will be nice for them to meet."

Katherine chuckled, remembering what had happened when Mary had met her late fiancé. She should have disapproved of her daughter's unladylike behavior, but secretly she had been amused by it. "As long as they get on better than Mary and Francis' son, I think you will do well."

Anne grinned. She'd been at the summit, acting as translator for Queen Claude, and she remembered being quite impressed with the daring little princess. "That is certainly true," she agreed. "Though it might offer some entertainment," she added wickedly.

Katherine just gave her a look, shaking her head. "You do know you're impossible, I hope."

"Of course I know, but if the day came where I wasn't, everyone would demand to know what was wrong."

A lesser woman would have rolled her eyes, and Katherine almost did anyway. But instead she simply shook her head again and refused to dignify that comment with a response.

* * *

Mary and Cathy were in the hall, where an impromptu bit of dancing had begun. They knew several of the couples, including Kate and Hal, who still occasionally acted like young lovers despite having been married for four years and being parents to two children. _No, three_, Mary corrected herself, remembering her little half-brother Edward. Hal and Kate were raising him alongside their son Nathaniel and their daughter Grace, but they usually refrained from mentioning him. That was wise – her father still had not warmed to his youngest child. Bringing him up now would likely only make that worse.

She and Cathy had been dancing together, but now her friend had been claimed as a partner by… Well, she wasn't sure who the young man was, but she thought he might be one of the many Howard boys. Mary was content to watch for a bit. She liked trying to figure out which couples were just dancing for the fun of it and which ones were actually courting. For example, she knew that Cathy and her partner would separate as soon as the set was finished, but others would not. Like her father's friend, Sir Anthony, and her mother's lady-in-waiting, Ursula Misseldon. They certainly seemed to be interested in more than just a single dance.

Mary's musings were cut short by someone clearing their throat behind her. She turned around to see a tall, dark-haired man with a short, well-trimmed beard. "Hello, Your Highness," he said in an accented voice, bowing. "May I ask you for a dance?"

Mary raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid not, good sir, since I do not even know your name."

"Ah," he said, flashing a charming smile at her. "I am Duke Philip of Bavaria, here visiting the court."

"Hmm," Mary said, tilting her head in a way she'd seen women of the court do. Granted, she really shouldn't be mimicking them, but it was just a dance, and hardly anything serious. "Well then, Your Grace, I accept the offer."

She took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor, sure that the faint glee she was feeling was simply from the new experience of being asked to dance by a young man. Most of them were too afraid of her father's wrath to dare, but she supposed that a visiting royal could be braver. Honestly, she didn't care; she was just going to enjoy this moment.

* * *

"So, little brother, do you regret the sudden change in your fortunes?" Mary Boleyn teased, linking arms with George as they walked in the garden.

"Regret it? You are joking, right, Mary? I nearly went to the chapel to say a prayer in thanksgiving. There was something about Jane Parker that I didn't like. She just gave me a bad feeling, so I'm quite glad not to be marrying her." George knew he would have to marry eventually, something he and Mark had already accepted, but Jane Parker… She had unsettled him for some reason, and he was glad to avoid marriage with her.

He gave his sister a speculative look. "And what of you, Marianne? Do you want Father – or, actually, you'd probably do better if you asked Anne – to help you find a new husband?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "No, thank you. If I were to want a husband, I don't see why I can't find someone for myself," she said archly.

"Mary…" George said cautiously. "Don't tell me you've gone and done something rash – or are planning to."

"I don't plan anything, dear brother," Mary said, with an impish grin that did not ease George's mind at all.

"What are you two talking about?" Hal asked, coming up from behind them.

"George thinks I've gone and done something scandalous again," Mary pouted. "He should know I've grown beyond that now."

"I don't know," George said, only half-joking. "You're certainly acting much more like you used to; I think you've relaxed a bit now that your children are a little older, and I'm not sure that will be a good thing. But I guess I have to trust you." Even if that gleam in her eyes meant she was up to something. If nothing else, it would probably infuriate their father, which would be entertaining.

He turned to his cousin. "So, where is your lovely wife?" Hal glared at him.

"Stay away from her, you charmer," he said sternly. "At any rate, she's at Kendal Castle at the moment, collecting her siblings."

"Their mother just died, right?" Mary asked.

"Mm-hmm," Hal confirmed. "And Kate's bringing the younger Parrs to court – William's gotten… something in the King's household and Anne will be in one of the royal ladies' households. Last Kate knew, we weren't sure if Anne could take her or if she'd end up with the Queen."

"I'll have to give her condolences when I see her next," George said. "So… How are the children?"

Hal tensed a bit. "Nathaniel's just starting with a horn book – I know he's young, but we thought it best to begin early. And Grace is learning to walk."

"And the other one?" George asked quietly.

"Healthy," Hal said, equally softly. "He's started talking a bit."

"Hmm," George said. "Well, all good news from your household then. That's nice to hear."

"Yes, well, we like it. I suppose we're getting completely old and boring at this rate, a married couple with children who slip away from court to see them at least once a week."

"I think it's wonderful," Mary objected. "The way you and Kate are with your children, it really is."

Hal gave her a grateful smile – it was nice to hear that after the mocking some of his fellow courtiers gave him and the cold disapproval from his father. "Thanks, Mary. So, what news do you two have? I heard about the failed marriage, George; should I be offering condolences or congratulations?"

* * *

"Is there something I can do for you, Excellency?"

Chapuys did not like Cromwell. He considered the Chancellor to be a sly, calculating man with no true loyalties, except to himself. But right now the man was in a strong position, and Chapuys had his duty. "I wanted to speak with you about the King's mindset. Is he interested in a marriage between the Princess Cecily and the Prince of Asturias, or is he simply humoring the Emperor?"

Cromwell didn't answer right away, and Chapuys had to hide a scowl. Damn the man and his mind games. "His Majesty is cautious about this offer," Cromwell said at last, "because of his prior experiences with your master."

The ambassador clenched his teeth. "And what would make the King less concerned?"

Thirty minutes later, Chapuys left the Chancellor's office with a headache brewing. It appeared that Cromwell supported an Imperial match, so at least he had an ally. The Queen was being cautious, probably because her wholehearted support last time had hurt her once the betrothal fell through. What he really needed was to get the Lady Anne to support the match, but she seemed ambivalent about it.

"Are you all right, Eustace?" a cheerful voice called out. Chapuys suppressed a sigh. The Scottish ambassador was a friend, but he was a bit too energetic sometimes.

"Just fine, Alexander, and you?"

"Aggravated. The damned Cleves ambassador's here, Olisleger, and apparently his master wants the Princess Mary's hand for his nephew and heir. I'm trying to arrange a match with her and _my_ master, King James."

Chapuys frowned. "I see. And you believe that the heir of a Protestant duke has a chance over the King of Scotland?"

"The boy's come to press his suit in person, so yes, I do think he has a chance." He shook his head before continuing in an undertone. "It's a grand gesture, the Bavarian coming here in person, and we both know King Henry likes those."

"Yes, but your king is his nephew, and with him, his daughter will be a Queen. She can be only a duchess with the other suitor, even if he is to be a ruling duke."

"That is true, but… Could you not speak with the Queen for me? It is known that you have a good rapport with her. Ask her to help support a marriage with my King?"

No, Chapuys could not. He liked Fraser well enough on a personal level, but in business… No. Scotland too often allied itself with France. He liked Alexander Fraser on a personal level, but he was not one to put a casual friendship above his duty to the Emperor. "I would have to be sure such a thing did not conflict with the Emperor's wishes first," he said smoothly.

Of course, the Emperor likely would not want England allying itself with Scotland. Perhaps he should speak to this Cleves ambassador, Olisleger. Or perhaps he should stay out of it entirely and watch Fraser and Olisleger battle it out. Yes, that was what he would do. He had enough to do arranging the match with Prince Philip and little Princess Cecily; he would need some form of entertainment.

A/N: Ambassadors, go into your corners! Sorry Mary Boleyn's romance is still vague – I will admit that's because I'm still debating who she's going to be with. It may come down to flipping a coin, at this point.


	37. Arrivals and Returns

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_**Chapter 36 – Arrivals and Returns:**_ "Really?" Lady Anne asked, giving the midwife a sharp look. "You're sure, Mistress Bennet?"

Sarah nodded, trying not to be nervous. Her aunt had been Lady Anne's midwife the first time around, and would have been this time, except she'd just broken her leg. Her mother had already left for a client's home, so it had come down to Sarah. It was ironic that not so long ago, she'd been dispatched to bring the King's bastard son into the world – now, hopefully, she would be there to help in the birth of a legitimate son.

"Well, thank you," the Lady said, her happiness clear. She gave Sarah a small pouch of coins and dismissed her. Sarah took the money and left, already working out how she could manage to be her aunt's assistant for the actual birth. If she could do that, then she'd be completely assured in her reputation. She needed it; some people in the City thought her unlucky for having operated in the Tower.

Anne watched the young woman leave, trying to hold her composure. It was her first pregnancy since she'd lost her boy, a year and a half ago. It was early March now, so… Her child would be born sometime in September, since she was about two months gone. If she was lucky, it would be a boy this time.

She walked to the window, looking out into the garden. Her time was up in 1535, and if she didn't have a son… She would lose Cecily, and Katherine. She didn't even want to leave Henry at this point. Her hand fell to her stomach. This child had to be a boy, because she couldn't lose what she had now. She'd never been happier, at least not in her adult life, but as 1535 drew closer she began to see the downside of that. If you were happy, you had more to lose. She wasn't sure she would survive it.

But right now she had to stop worrying about it, because that was bad for the baby. She took a deep breath and turned from the window, reminding herself that she had people to tell her good news to, and she really should start doing that.

* * *

Kate glanced at her dark-haired siblings, wondering what was going through their heads. Will and Annie were young, but they were both older than she'd been when she'd come to court for the first time. William was twenty-one and Anne was nineteen, and they were no longer the children she remembered.

"William, you're going to be a gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and for God's sake, please tell me you've grown out of the constant pranking phase you were in when I last got a letter from you."

"He's not," Annie said in a long-suffering voice. "God help us all."

Will rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Katie, I know when to behave. Our dear sister here is just upset because she still doesn't know how to avoid my clever plots."

"You had best know when to behave," Kate said sternly, slipping back into the role of second mother she had always had with her younger siblings. Perhaps that was part of why she'd taken to actual motherhood so well; she'd had a chance to practice with these two.

She left her brother with Francis Weston, a friend of Hal's and George's who would get Will settled. She and Annie, meanwhile, continued to Anne's rooms. It had finally been confirmed that Anne could have a third lady – probably because she'd just told the King that she was pregnant again, so nothing was too good for her. Kate was happy; if Annie had ended up in Mary's household, she would likely have ended up leaving the country within the next few years, and in the Queen's… Well, Kate wouldn't have been able to watch out for her properly there.

But as they approached Anne's apartments, she saw her sister getting uncomfortable. "Annie, what is it?"

"I'm sorry, Katie, I just… I keep thinking about the things Mama said."

Kate scowled. "And what did Mother say?" She knew her mother disapproved of Anne, and she really hoped Annie didn't agree.

"She always said that the Lady Anne was… Well, the handmaid role is necessary, but she always felt Lady Anne should be treated as just another court lady, unless and until she had a son, and even then she should be in the background. Because anything else is disgraceful."

Kate gave her sister a sharp glare. "I don't want to hear any of that from you again, do you hear me? And if you agree with it… Well, perhaps the Queen's household is better for you after all." She wanted her sister with her, but if she was going to look down on Lady Anne, she shouldn't be serving her. It just wouldn't work.

Annie stared at her sister with wide, dark eyes. She'd never seen Kate so angry before; her sister was usually very even-tempered. "Katie, I don't, really! I don't even know Lady Anne, but hearing Mama say those things, then reading the wonderful things you say in your letters… I'm a bit confused, that's all. But truly, I'm here with an open mind, to make my own opinions."

Kate sighed. "All right then, Annie. I'm sorry I overreacted, it's just…"

"After everything that happened before, people close to Lady Anne are more defensive than ever? You did mention that; I should have remembered. But truly, I'm looking forward to meeting her – I was quite dazzled by her at your wedding, but I was young then."

Kate grinned. "Well, you're an adult now, and you'll have to avoid being dazzled by her if you see her every day," she joked, before the two sisters continued on their way.

* * *

"It's too bad Ellie is too little to come to court, she'll miss all the fun," Edward Brandon lamented to his parents.

"Well, she'll be able to come later," Margaret reassured her son. "And then you'll be able to show your sister everything about court."

"Eleanor will have to say you're a wonderful brother; won't you like that?" Charles added, both of them knowing that their son loved the idea of being an older brother. To them, it seemed like something to encourage; it would only help their son and daughter get along in the future.

Ned wrinkled his nose. "I don't know why you call her Eleanor; I know it's her name, but she's too little for such a big name," he said matter-of-factly.

His parents looked at each other, and he was amused to see that they didn't seem to have an answer at the ready for him. It was rare that he could shock his parents into silence, and he quite enjoyed it. He grinned and leaned forward to peer out of the window as Whitehall Palace came into view. He couldn't wait to see Harry again – they needed to plan some pranks now that they were both older and could do that sort of thing. Though he didn't imagine strict Lady Bryan would agree… Oh well, she was just the governess and they could get Cecily to get them out of trouble. She was a princess and could do that sort of thing.

Margaret didn't know exactly what was on her son's mind, but she could guess enough to be concerned. Unfortunately, he seemed to have inherited her own childhood love of mischief, along with the recklessness Charles had once had. The combination was one that may not bode well. She gave Charles a look, one that said they'd have to make sure someone was warned about their son's new love of mischief. His wry expression told her that she agreed, but that he doubted it would do any good.

Why did she have the feeling that their boy would be the cause of a great many headaches in the near future? And why did she suspect that her 'dear' brother would find his nephew's antics amusing if he ever got wind of them, and therefore make the situation more frustrating?

* * *

"Do you think he suspects anything?"

Mary sighed, resting her head against Will's chest as he ran his fingers through her light brown curls. "I don't know; it's hard to tell with George, really. Certainly he'd never guess that we're married, I don't think anyone would figure me to be that daring."

"Oh well, they'd be right. I had to take great pains to wear you down, remember?" he teased.

She sat up, glaring at him. "Oh, you act as though it was such a challenge for you!"

"It was," he said lightly. "Showing you that you needed me as much as I did you by keeping away from you was torture, and you know it. But you came around in the end, so it was worth it," he said smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "And when they find out, will it still be worth it? We're not going to be able to keep it a secret for much longer, Will."

"I don't care what your family thinks," Will said firmly. "And as for them finding out, I would love for the world to know that we're married, and we love each other. I don't see what you're so afraid of."

"I want that too, it's just… If my father disowns me, I'll have to leave court, and I'm afraid I may lose my children if that happens. I couldn't stand it if I did, it would break my heart." She sighed, lying back down. "I hate having to worry about this kind of thing."

Will kissed the top of her head. "Then why worry? No one knows right now, and I'm sure we have time to work out a plan so that you don't lose your children."

Mary sighed. "But we don't have that time, not now." She bit her lip. "I have news, Will – it's good, but at the same time… It's changed everything."

"What news is this?"

She sat up again, looking him in the eye. "I'm with child."

* * *

"Your country is beautiful," Duke Philip said earnestly. Mary smiled brightly at him. They were walking in the gardens, with Cathy and one of his manservants following at a short distance.

"Is Bavaria or Cleves so ugly, then? Because I assure you, you're seeing England starting on the best time of year. It's the start of April, so spring is just properly starting. You won't find it so beautiful in winter, unfortunately."

"No, they are both very nice as well – mountains, and lakes, but I like it here. It is different; perhaps that is what I like. And I am sure there is beauty here even in winter." He gave her a warm smile, one which made her think that perhaps he wasn't just talking about the landscape.

"I'd like to see that – we don't have mountains here, just a lot of hills. And moors, but no mountain ranges." She wasn't lying, or speaking from politeness. Mary did have a strong desire to see other places. As a girl, all her dreams had been about Spain, the Alhambra Palace that her mother talked about. Later, Anne's stories had added France to her daydreams, and reading about other countries had made her think of them as well.

"Perhaps you will visit my country one day, and then I would be glad to show it to you," Philip said. "As you have been so kind to show me the palace and the grounds, I would have to repay you."

"There would be no need for repayment," Mary said. "I have enjoyed it. You have been cordial company for me, Your Grace."

"Ah, but I will owe you at least one favor. You see, I have heard there is to be a banquet tonight, and dancing, and while I do know how to dance, I am woefully lacking in actual talent."

"Are you asking me to help you?"

"Well, if I have a partner as graceful as yourself, no one would notice my own two left feet."

"Then I must agree," Mary said. "I could not allow a foreign guest to be embarrassed, and if my small skill can prevent that, I would be obliged to offer my help."

Someone besides Cathy and William, Philip's manservant, was observing the two young royals, and that someone was close enough to hear the conversation. The young man's name was Timothy, and he was part of the Scottish ambassador's staff. He quickly fled from his place behind a bush to report to his master what he'd heard.

Fraser listened and then waved the boy away, gritting his teeth. It was exactly as he'd expected. Olisleger was telling the Duke to press his advantage by charming the Princess, something James of Scotland could not do. A ruling monarch, even though he was the nephew of England's King, could not spend too much time in a foreign court.

Still, he thought, drumming his fingertips on the top of his desk, there was another option. His King could not press his suit in person, but he did have two half-sisters in England. Lady Frances Douglas, newly married to Henry Grey, Marquess of Dorset, and her younger sister Lady Margaret Douglas, who was the exact same age as her cousin Princess Mary. Perhaps, if they were to visit the court, they could speak up in their brother's favor, turning Princess Mary's attention away from the German Duke. It was worth a try.

Taking up a piece of parchment, he trimmed his quill and began to write.

_My lady Frances… _

A/N: Yes, I've reinvented Frances Grey nee Brandon as Frances Grey nee Douglas, which was necessary in order to make her old enough to be Jane Grey's mother in a few years' time. Also, as you can see, I decided to go the historical route with Mary Boleyn. So much simpler. And on a completely unrelated subject, I'm one of the moderators on a new Tudor RPG forum, the Tudor Era. Two of the other mods are AestheticNarcissist and TrivialQueen, so I figured it's very appropriate to advertise here. We still have loads of characters open, so check it out. http: // z7. invisionfree. com / The _ Tudor _ Era / index .php Just get rid of the spaces in the link. :)


	38. Truces and Alliances

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Apologies for the re-upload, I've been informed of a technical glitch, so I'm trying to rectify it.

_**Chapter 37 – Truces and Alliances:**_ Katherine was reading the latest letter from her nephew, telling her that he and his family were en route to England and that he could not wait to see her again, when she heard her door open. She didn't need to look up to see who it was when she heard Anne's voice quietly ask the ladies – hers and Katherine's – to leave, which they did.

Katherine glanced up anyway, though, in time to see a slightly puzzled look on Mistress Anne Parr's face. But her sister drew her away, and would probably tell her not to worry about it, since none of the other women did. So she returned to the letter, waiting to see what Anne wanted.

The younger woman didn't ask about the letter; instead she walked up behind Katherine's chair and peered over her shoulder. "I would have told you if you had asked, Anne," Katherine said, mock-sternly. Anne laughed, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek before taking a seat herself, offering an impish smile.

"I know, but that was more fun. So, when is the Emperor supposed to arrive?"

"You didn't read it?"

"No."

"Well, he believes it will only be another month or so, and from the date… I'd say it should be about two weeks, a bit longer perhaps." Katherine saw that Anne's expression darkened a bit, and she frowned. "What?"

"Doesn't it bother you at all, that Henry paraded Mary and now Cecily like some prize farm animal, to be sold to the highest bidder?" Anne asked, shaking her head.

"I never looked at it that way. I was fortunate, I suppose; I was always intended for Arthur, for as long as I could recall. There was very little showing me off, and when there was, it was always to the English." Katherine frowned. "And the nobility is much the same."

"Oh, I know, and it always irked me, honestly. The way my father would talk about Mary's and my prospects when he thought I was out of earshot… He sounded like a horse breeder!" It was rare for her to speak so harshly of her father, even now, with Katherine, but she couldn't help it.

Katherine's reply was stopped when Mistress Annie Parr came back into the room, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty, my lady, but Princess Margaret is here. She wanted me to announce her."

Katherine winced inwardly. Margaret and Anne in the same room… It would be the first time since the incident in the garden, nearly two years ago now. But Margaret had been behaving herself – she hadn't even kicked up a fuss when Henry insisted that Anne be one of the godmothers to Margaret's daughter. Admittedly, Anne had not attended the christening since Henry was still being extremely overprotective of her, and had sent Lady Surrey as proxy.

Still, when Margaret arrived, she started out with perfect behavior, curtseying to both women and addressing them with proper titles. There was a slight tightness around her eyes, but nothing else showed that she wasn't happy to be doing this.

"Margaret, it's wonderful to see you back," Katherine said, and her words were genuine. She was fond of her sister-in-law, who had been one of her few friends during the years of her widowhood. "Did young Edward return with you?"

"Yes, he did, and I'm very worried about the mischief he may get up to, especially since Henry will likely find it all quite amusing. How is Mary?"

"She's well," Katherine said. "She's continuing with her studies, of course, and your ward Mistress Brooke is still her closest friend. There are two strong marriage offers for her right now, from the King of Scotland and the heir of the Duke of Cleves, but Henry has not yet said which of those he is more interested in."

Margaret nodded, then paused for a second before glancing at Anne. "And Cecily, of course; how is she?"

Anne hesitated, more than a little surprised that Margaret had initiated conversation with her. She expected Katherine to continue, but she realized quickly that Katherine wanted to see if she and Margaret could manage civility. Well. Margaret was trying, which was all Anne had asked of her. So, yes, if both of them tried, perhaps they could.

"Cecily is doing very well. She's begun official lessons with Lady Bryan, and enjoys them. Of course, she pesters Mary, Cathy, and Katherine to teach her Spanish, and my sister and myself to teach her French. How is your little girl, Eleanor?"

Margaret told them about Eleanor's attempts at talking, her manner softening as she did. Whatever else, Anne thought, the woman did love her children, and that was certainly clear. It made her like Margaret just a little more.

They conversed for some time, the dialogue becoming a bit stilted sometimes between Anne and Margaret, but Katherine was very good at rescuing. When the Princess finally left, Anne was proud to note than none of them had lost their tempers, not even a little.

"That was well-handled, by both of you," Katherine observed, echoing Anne's thoughts. "It seems Margaret has decided to move beyond her dislike of you."

"Maybe it's because she was suspected when Thomas Seymour… when he…" Anne bit her lip. It was still hard to talk about. "Anyway, maybe she learned from that. She and the Duke of Suffolk reconciled as well, didn't they? Maybe that put her in a friendlier state of mind."

"I imagine what happened in 1531 gave her a sharp shock. Margaret's always seemed to think she can do as she likes because she's Henry's sister, but Cromwell questioned her anyway and Henry didn't seem to mind. So now, for the sake of her family, she sees she has to try with you," Katherine explained. "Brandon's wanted her to calm down for years, I think she's finally listening to him."

"Well, good. That's one less thing for me to be worried about. Especially now – the reason I initially stopped by was to tell you, I'm pregnant again."

Katherine smiled warmly, clasping Anne's hand in her own. "Congratulations. I'm sure all will be well this time."

"I hope so, because this is my last chance."

"You can't worry about that, it's not good for the child."

"I'll try, I promise." But it was hard _not_ to worry, because really, she couldn't forget that if she didn't have a son, she would lose everything in her life that mattered.

* * *

"Frances! Margaret! It's wonderful to see you again!" Mary hadn't seen her half-Scottish cousins, the daughters of her Aunt Mary and the Earl of Angus, since her aunt had visited England several years ago. She'd been little then, about six, and Frances had been the same age. Margaret had only been three.

Frances was as fair as her mother, a willowy blonde with icy blue eyes. She smiled at her cousin, but the eyes didn't warm at all. "It's always a pleasure, Your Highness, for both my sister and myself." Frances was newly married to the eldest Grey son, Henry. He was the heir to the marquessate of Dorset, and she felt she had done quite well for herself. But there was always more, and so she had obeyed the summons of her brother's ambassador. If she could get her cousin and her half-brother wed, it had been implied that there would be a reward in it for her.

Margaret, of course, knew nothing of this. She thought they were just there for a pleasant visit with their cousin. Frances thought her sister was a fool, if she didn't at least see that there was more to this than pleasantries. But maybe her genuine belief would help convince Mary, which could only be a good thing.

"No titles between us," Mary said firmly. "I am simply Mary, your cousin. We're family!"

"Of course," Frances said. "I forgot. So, cousin Mary, how are you? I hear that my brother is seeking your hand in marriage."

"Jamie wants to marry you?" Margaret asked. She was fifteen, and a romantic. "Mary, that's wonderful!"

Mary tried to keep her smile genuine, though she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She knew her royal cousin, James, had offered her marriage, and part of her did like the idea. A Queen, something she would not be if she married her other suitor, Philip. And yet… James could not come in person, she knew that, but Philip had, and he was sweet and charming. Still, she was a Princess, and she did not have the right to choose for herself. Even if she did, she had to consider more than her own feelings. So perhaps she should take advantage of this chance, to speak to James' sisters. They could tell her about him, give her a better idea of who this young King was.

"Yes, his ambassador, Sir Alexander, has spoken to me of your brother's merits. But, well, ambassadors always talk that way. What is James really like? I'm curious, I have to admit."

Mary didn't see the calculating glint in Frances' eye, and neither did Margaret, but Cathy, who had been in the background, not wanting to intrude on the family reunion, certainly did. She decided that she didn't trust Frances, and so kept her eyes on the other woman. Frances, for her part, noticed Cathy's suspicion and was well-aware that the dark-haired girl was an enemy. Their eyes met, briefly, and a war of sorts was declared between them.

Fraser had his ally in Frances, and because Cathy distrusted her, Olisleger and Philip had one as well, in Cathy.

* * *

George strolled into his sister Mary's bedchamber, not pausing to consider that he might have caught her in a state of undress. They were siblings, after all; besides, Mary would shriek and chase him out if she was, and then they'd have something to laugh about later. But he didn't find her undressed, he found her pale and sweaty, and there was a faint stench of vomit in the room.

"Mary, are you unwell?" Foolish question, but both of his sisters hated it when someone assumed they were ill and needed cosseting – something which was a problem for Anne, what with the King's overprotective nature. But if Mary was sick, she shouldn't be at court.

Yet she didn't seem too bad. A bit pale and sweaty, yes, but her eyes weren't glassy, and she didn't appear unsteady on her feet. She did, however, look very nervous.

"I'm… I'm fine, George. I think I just ate something that didn't sit well."

She always toyed with her hair when she was lying. Anne tended to smooth her skirts when she lied, and both of his sisters said that he tapped his feet constantly when he was lying. They'd been close enough to know that, but sometimes they did still try lying to each other. And it never worked, just as it wasn't working now.

"Mary, you're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Marianne…"

Mary sighed. "Fine. If you really must know, I'm pregnant. Now will you please stop interrogating me and go away?"

It took George a minute to find his voice, but when he did, it was loud. "Go away? What? Mary, you're pregnant! When did you take a lover, for God's sake?"

"I did not take a lover, I'm married!" Mary shot back.

"You… What? To who?"

"William Stafford. He's one of Uncle's men-at-arms."

George closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You… married a man-at-arms. Bloody _hell_, Mary, are you trying to wreak havoc?"

Mary glared at him. "Oh, don't try that with me, George. No one in the family notices me, I'm just a washed-up whore! You and Anne are the only ones who care, and this isn't going to hurt you."

"It might, if the King decides to be insulted that a woman who is practically his sister-in-law married a servant!"

"Then I'll leave court, I don't care."

"Anne needs you! She's pregnant again, and she has to have trustworthy people around her so nothing goes wrong this time! And, Mary, what if you aren't allowed to keep your children?"

Now Mary looked stricken, not angry. "George…" she whispered, "you won't let them do that, will you? And Anne, surely she won't…"

She would, if their father had anything to say about it, George thought grimly. If their father took control of this, Mary would be banished from court, and her children would be lost to her. But none of the Boleyn children listened to their father too much anymore, so perhaps…

George sighed. "We need to talk to Anne. She's the only one with the clout to protect you once Father knows." He put an arm around his sister's shoulder. "This was a really stupid move, Mary, but… You deserve to be happy, so we'll see what we can do, hmm?"

It occurred to him, as they walked to Anne's rooms, that being in love with Mark, when it was forbidden, seemed to have made him soft. Or maybe he was just being the brother he should have been all along, instead of half-caught in his father's ambitious web.

* * *

When his uncle had first suggested he go to England to personally woo the King's elder daughter, Philip had been more interested in the thought of travel than in the girl he was to meet. But then he'd arrived, and…

He'd expected a dreary Spaniard, since Princess Mary was known to be very close to her Spanish mother. But Katherine of Aragon had a quiet grace that had him feeling guilty for his uncharitable preconceptions, and as for Mary herself… She was beautiful, intelligent, and sweet, and when he'd happened to see her playing outside with her little sister, it had touched his heart.

The fact was, he was falling for her. Hard. But he wasn't sure how she felt about him, and that was painful. She was always friendly, but from what he'd seen of her mother, that would be something she'd have been taught, to always be courteous. And she was always careful to observe the proprieties with him, so there was no sign of her true feelings. It was maddening.

"Your Grace?" Philip looked up to see Mistress Catherine Brooke approaching him. She seemed a bit uncertain, so he gave her an encouraging smile.

"May I help you, Mistress Brooke?"

She hesitated, but then spoke. "I know this is rude of me, but… My mistress, Princess Mary, are you simply charming her for the sake of an alliance, or do you actually like her?"

Philip frowned, but decided a truthful answer was best. Mistress Catherine was, after all, Mary's best friend. "I like her, far more than I would have expected to. Far more than is proper, I suppose."

Catherine smiled. "That's good news, Your Grace, because there are now people trying to get her to marry the King of Scotland, and I don't trust their motives. If you genuinely care for Mary, then I can help you with a good conscience."

Philip wanted to question this sudden ally, but if she could help him truly win Mary, he wasn't about to object, and he didn't really care if her motives weren't as pure as they seemed. He needed a friend, and if she would be his, he was grateful.

A/N: Wow… Sorry it's been so long, I've been home which means restricted computer time. Yes, I have more time for the computer at school than at home, it's strange.


	39. Future In Focus

_**Chapter 38 – Future in Focus:**_ The last time that the Emperor had visited England, one of his goals had been to finalize a betrothal between himself and his young cousin, the Princess Mary. But plans had changed, and Mary's age had finally made him decide he could not wait for her. So he had married Isabella of Portugal, and now their son was to marry Mary's half-sister. Charles had never given much thought to the handmaid custom; it was an almost-forgotten tradition until King Henry had revived it. But it was approved of by the Church, which was the important thing. And the handmaid's child could marry his son, so all was well.

At least, that was how Charles saw it. Isabella thought it insulting that her precious boy should marry the child of a secondary consort rather than a Queen's daughter. "Why can't he wed the Princess Mary?" she had asked, frowning.

"Because Mary is too old for him, she would have to wait too long to marry him. Marriage with Princess Cecily is best," he had explained patiently.

"I don't like it. The girl's mother is common born, and the Tudors aren't of the best blood to begin with."

"My grandparents – and yours – thought their blood good enough to marry Aunt Katherine into the English royal line, and while we are in England you will show them proper courtesy, Isabella. They are family, and you would do well to remember that. Besides, would you prefer that England ally itself with France? I've breathed easier since Cousin Mary's French intended died, I won't risk her sister marrying one of Francis' other brats."

Isabella had scowled, but finally nodded. "Hopefully the girl's pretty, at least."

"Her mother is a celebrated, if unconventional, beauty, so I imagine so." He had met Anne Boleyn when she had been a girl at his aunt's court in the Netherlands; he remembered a winsome child with arresting eyes. If the daughter took after the mother, she would be attractive, so he doubted Isabella would have anything to complain about there.

Now Charles, his wife, and their son disembarked at Dover, just as he had years before. The English countryside seemed largely unchanged, or so he thought, though admittedly he had not paid much attention at the time. They were warmly greeted by an entourage headed by the Duke of Norfolk – one of England's highest peers and also the uncle of Lady Anne Boleyn, if Charles remembered the details of Chapuys' reports correctly. The Duke of Suffolk, the King's brother-in-law, was also there. His young son, Lord Edward Brandon, heir to the throne behind the King's daughters and the boy's own mother, was there as well. Charles supposed this was for Philip's sake.

It was Norfolk who told them that the English royal family awaited them at Whitehall, and the entourage he led was to escort them there. Charles inclined his head, familiar with the procedure from his last visit. He could see Isabella's expression – she apparently felt that one of the Tudors should have come personally, but who would it have been? Henry could not, his aunt was past such things, Lady Anne was pregnant, and Princess Mary would probably not be considered a proper guide. There was the King's sister, Princess Margaret, but from what his sources said, she was a diplomatic disaster. Sometimes his wife simply didn't think practically.

As they rode along, Charles glanced back to see his son deep in conversation with young Lord Edward. It was good to see; Philip did not always get a chance to spend time with those his own age, and Charles was glad to see the boys getting along. He only hoped his son and Cecily Tudor would get on as well.

* * *

"I just don't know what to do. On the one hand, Frances and Margaret speak of James in glowing terms, and with him I'd be a Queen. But Philip… He's so sweet and kind, and he looks at me the way Lord Hal looks at you. I can see it in his eyes."

Kate studied the Princess, wondering what to say. The long-ago conversation after Mary had found out about the alliance between Lady Anne and the Queen had begun a pattern; there were times when Mary felt she could not confide in her mother, for whatever reason. And then she turned to Kate. For the most part, it was something that the older woman was honored by, but at times like this…

"Well, Your Highness, what about you? You say Philip seems to be strongly attached to you; how do you feel about him?"

"Mary, please, Kate; if you can call Anne by her first name in private you can do the same with me. And Philip…" Mary sighed, looking off toward the far wall. "He makes me laugh, in a way no one else can. I'm always happy with him, and I can't wait to see him. Is that what love is?"

Kate suddenly remembered how she herself had been, at basically the same age. Hal had made everything in her world a little brighter, and he still did. And she felt a strange mix of joy and worry for Mary. Because if she was in love with Philip, and it was decided that she should marry King James instead…

But she wasn't the one who said it. Mary was. "But I can't love him, not if I might have to marry someone else. I can't do that to myself."

Kate hesitated, then put a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "If you spoke to your father… Do you think that might help?"

"Maybe, but not if he needs the Scottish alliance. And James sounds kind; I could be happy with him too, couldn't I?" She sat down on a bench, looking off across the garden. "I should never have let myself get close to Philip, should I?"

Kate sat next to her, taking the other young woman's hand. Mary looked back at her, and Kate tried to find the right words. "Logically, no. But I've always thought, even if Hal and I were not able to be together, the chance to feel that way about someone is something you should never regret."

Mary looked down at her lap, biting her lip. "I'm not sure what I should do."

* * *

The expression on Mary's face was one that, as children, meant her older sister had done something that would get her in trouble again, like when she pulled pranks on their nurse. It made Anne nervous, because the expression was the one Mary wore when she'd been caught out, and was afraid of what would happen next.

"Mary, what's happened?" Anne asked, setting down her book and giving all her attention to her sister.

"Anne… I need your help. I've done something reckless, and I suppose it was wrong, but I can't regret it. I simply can't!"

"Mary, what is it?"

"I'm married. And I'm pregnant."

Anne just stared at her for a moment, completely lost for words. Finally she said, "Pregnant? And… married? But, Mary, who? When?"

Mary took a shaky breath. "His name is William Stafford, he's one of Uncle's men-at-arms. I know he's not an appropriate match, but Anne, I love him! I couldn't live without him, it would kill me."

Anne was silent, unsure what to say. Her first reaction was to berate her sister for being so reckless, but Mary's desperate words stilled her tongue. Looking into her sister's hazel eyes, she could see something there, something she recognized. Didn't she know exactly what it was like, to love someone she shouldn't? Wouldn't she do anything – hadn't she already done everything she could – to have Katherine in her life?

Thinking about that, she looked at Mary again and saw the fear there, the fear that she would abandon her sister to their father's fury – because he was going to be furious, no doubt about that. But Anne had the chance to make sure there was no damage done, and she was going to take it. How could she condemn Mary for doing something wild, something risky, for the same reasons that she had changed her own life so drastically? Decision made, she wrapped her older sister in a tight hug.

"If he makes you happy, I'm happy for you," she said firmly, "and I'll do everything I can to help you."

"Our father's going to be furious, isn't he?"

Anne's smile was bitter. "Of course he will; you knew that, Mary. But that isn't going to keep me from doing whatever I can for you."

"What if you can't?"

"I'm the Marquess of Pembroke, I'm the King's handmaid. I'm of higher rank than Father; I'll be able to do something, no matter what." Anne didn't always pull rank, she certainly didn't do it with her family, but for her sister's sake, she would use her place against their father if she had to. Because that was what family did. They helped each other where they could.

She motioned Mary to a seat and gave her a soft smile. "So, tell me about your Will. I don't think I've met him. What's he like?"

"He's… He's wonderful, Anne, truly. He doesn't blame me for being a whore – "

"Mary, you weren't…"

"Yes, I was, though it's sweet of you to try to deny it. But he loves me anyway, he loves me for me, and it's wonderful, Anne! Oh, I can't tell you, it's… indescribable." Mary grinned, and Anne found herself doing the same, enjoying Mary's happiness. But the shared joy was dimmed because Anne wasn't entirely sure what she could do for her sister. She would be able to do _something_, that was for sure, but…

She'd figure it out. She had to.

* * *

Figuring out what to do to solve Mary's problem had to take second place for a short while, Anne found. There was a certain urgency to her sister's situation, but they had at least a month before her pregnancy would be obvious, and the Emperor was here now. It was a bit uncomfortable, appearing on Henry's left in front of Katherine's nephew, but whether from politeness or true acceptance, she saw no disdain or censure in Charles' dark eyes. The same could not be said for his wife, however, and Anne almost rolled her eyes. She did seem to have a problem with royal women, didn't she?

Speaking of other royal women she'd been in conflict with, Princess Margaret and the Duke of Suffolk were in attendance. She could see it in Margaret's eyes; she was wondering if Anne could handle this. Did the woman forget she'd been raised at the heart of the French court? But she could hardly blame Henry's sister; half the court wondered how this was going to go, and part of that reason was her. Well, she would just have to show them all, wouldn't she?

The formal introductions between monarchs over, Charles beckoned his son forward. Anne saw his face soften slightly, which almost made her grin before she recalled herself. So even this overly-formal man had his soft spots. Good to know.

"This is my son, Philip, Prince of Asturias."

Henry gave the boy a smile. "Welcome, Prince Philip." Then he beckoned for Lady Bryan, who had been waiting just outside with Cecily. Now the governess came forward, Cecily holding her hand. The little girl shot her mother an uncertain look, and Anne replied with an encouraging smile.

Henry spoke up again, introducing Cecily. The two children were both encouraged to step forward and greet each other, and Anne held her breath. She remembered this not going well with Mary and the Dauphin, and just hoped the same thing wouldn't happen again.

Philip bowed, Cecily curtsied, and then, in a very adult gesture, Philip took Cecily's hand and kissed it. She smiled at him, and they went back to their places. No one but Anne, watching like a hawk, saw the mutual disdain in the children's eyes. They were young, but clearly not so young to know they didn't like each other, and yet they acted properly. But then, they were royal.

Still, if their attitudes didn't change… Oh well, that was a matter for later.

No one else saw a thing, and after the children were led away, the welcoming banquet began. Anne managed to hide her boredom, just like Katherine, and she knew both of them wore the same tolerant smile when Henry, after courteously leading the Empress out while the Emperor danced with Mary, danced a set with a pretty girl. Still, it didn't bother Anne anymore. She knew all Henry wanted from pretty girls now was a dance partner for a set. And there was no harm in that.

Still, she was happy when he danced the next two sets with Mary before walking over to talk to Brandon and Margaret. Mary turned to leave the floor, but was intercepted by the young Duke of Bavaria. The two of them quickly rejoined the dancers, and Anne slanted a look at Katherine. "Well, Mary seems to be getting along with her new suitor," she said mildly.

"Yes," Katherine said tightly.

"Katherine?"

"He's Lutheran. Henry says there is an agreement that Mary can keep her faith – Cleves itself is all but Catholic in form, but they refuse to acknowledge Papal authority. But that boy… He is not even that."

Anne sighed. "I've only met him briefly, but he seems like a kind, charming man." And from the way he was looking at Mary, he was also a man already more than half in love.

"He cares for her, I can see that. So I believe he won't attack her faith, but I…"

"She's your daughter, you don't want to let her go." Anne had felt a pang when Philip had kissed Cecily's hand. That boy was going to take her daughter away someday. And for Katherine, with Mary… 'Someday' was practically today. She couldn't take her Queen's hand in full view of everyone, but she let her expression show her sympathy. The slight smile she got in return told her that Katherine understood, and they both fell silent, watching the dancers once again.

* * *

After dancing for over an hour, Mary was getting a bit hot, so she slipped out into the corridor to catch her breath – and then almost died of shock when she bumped into someone. "Oh, Philip!" she said, stumbling back

Philip steadied her, a smile lighting his face. "Princess Mary. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I just needed a moment to catch my breath. It's too hot, in the hall. I'm sorry I walked into you."

"Do not worry about it," he told her. Really, he should have let go of her by now, but she didn't mind that he hadn't.

"Still, it was clumsy of me. I know better. So, why are you out here?"

"In Cleves, there are no banquets like this," he said with a shrug. "It is interesting to attend them here, but they can be... overwhelming."

"I never really thought of them that way," Mary admitted, "but then, I've almost always lived here, at the heart of the court. I suppose it's second nature to me."

"I imagine you would find Cleves terribly dull then," Philip said sadly.

"Oh, no! I can't see that I would, not if... I wouldn't find it dull. How could I?"

"It is not like England."

"That isn't necessarily a bad thing. I love my home, but it isn't the only good place in the world. And leaving it would not be so bad... if I left to go to someone I knew I could be happy with."

They stared at each other, and Mary cursed herself for letting that slip. But when she saw the look in Philip's eyes, the one that she had seen from people in love for years, she couldn't regret it. She felt as though she was falling into those dark eyes, her breath catching in her throat.

And when he bent his head to kiss her, all of the doubts which had plagued her faded, if only for that one moment.

A/N: I think we're in the home stretch now, guys! There should only be a few more chapters to this story, and I'll try to get them to you in a timely fashion. Next chapter, the Mary Boleyn situation comes to a head, Cecily and Prince Philip get along about as well as Mary and the Dauphin, and Frances finds that things are not working out for her.


	40. Slipping Through My Fingers

Disclaimer: Yeah, it's not mine.

_**Chapter 39 – Slipping Through My Fingers:**_ "What were you thinking?" Thomas Boleyn snarled at his older daughter, his expression murderous.

"I..." Mary backed up, afraid of the look in her father's pale, cold eyes. "Father, I..."

He grabbed her by both arms, his grip tight enough to bruise. "You little fool! How dare you marry a common man-at-arms, how dare you risk bringing scandal to this family!"

"Please, let me go!" Mary cried, trying to wrench free. But she couldn't, and she stared up at her father, stunned that he was reacting this badly. She'd expected anger, but...

The door slammed open, and someone yanked her away from her father. Blinking, Mary realized it was Will. She knew he'd intended to come when she told her father about their marriage, but at the last second she'd had to go alone because he'd been ordered to take care of something for her uncle.

"What do you think you're doing?" Will demanded of her father, and Mary held her breath, terrified.

"Who are you to speak to me that way?" Her father was not in the slightest bit cowed or repentant, not that she would have expected it.

"I'm the husband of the woman you were abusing. I don't care if you are her father, if you're a viscount or practically a member of the royal family, you're not going to hurt her like that ever again, do you understand me?"

And without waiting for a reply, Will turned away, leading Mary out of the room. Once in the hall, Mary broke down, sobs shaking her body as Will held her close. "I never thought... I knew he'd be angry, but..."

"It's all right, I promise," he murmured, running a hand through her hair.

Mary looked up at him. "Anne. I need to talk to Anne. She said she would help me, so I have to see her."

Will nodded. "All right, we'll go talk to your sister then."

* * *

Katherine took one look at Anne's expression and dismissed her ladies. When the two of them were alone, she asked, "What's happened?"

"Just before the banquet for your nephew, my sister told me she got married in secret to William Stafford, one of my uncle's men-at-arms, and they're expecting a child. My father knows now, and... He's demanding I banish her, I promised Mary I'd help her, but I don't know what to do."

Watching the younger woman pace, Katherine said, "Well, first you need to sit down, because wearing a groove in the floor won't help anyone and you should be staying calm in any case."

Anne tossed her a wry smile, but complied, sitting in the chair next to Katherine's own. "All right, I'm sitting down, but I'm still not sure what to do. I mean, Mary's not officially one of my ladies, but I can change that in order to keep her here. William... I'm not sure about him. I suppose I could make him my Master of Horse, or something like that."

Katherine nodded. "You could do that, or perhaps Henry could find something for him. Have you spoken to him yet?"

"No, I'm a bit worried about how he might react, to be honest. I mean, technically Mary is related to the royal family, through Cecily if not me, so he might consider it an insult." Anne shook her head. "I wish Mary wasn't so... impulsive, but she loves him. She was telling me about him, I could see it in her eyes. And, well, I can't fault her for that. I do try not to be a hypocrite."

Katherine smiled faintly, reaching out and taking the younger woman's hand. "No, love is too rare a thing for her to throw away," the Queen agreed. But it was true; Mary Boleyn was terribly impulsive, and all parties would have been better served if the older Boleyn girl had acted after a bit more thought. "As for Henry, he's a romantic, so you may be able to appeal to him that way. If nothing else, he'll be willing to help you settle things the way you want them to be settled because such family strife will upset you, and that could hurt the child you carry."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "So pregnancy as a tactic? I'm impressed." She toyed with her hair as she thought about it. "And I know Henry has a soft spot for Mary. I don't think it's anything to do with... with before. I know he's fond of Harry and Missy, and it seems to carry over to Mary."

Katherine nodded. She'd seen Henry's affection for Anne's niece and nephew; she even shared it. Annie was a bright, charming little girl, and Harry was a boy who loved mischief, always running around with Margaret's boy Edward. As for Mary, it was hard to _dis_like her; despite her less-than-reputable past, the woman held her head high and smiled at those who sneered behind their hands. Knowing how hard it was to ignore whispers – even if those that followed her were not nearly so mean-spirited – Katherine had to sympathize with Anne's sister. Especially since she suspected that Mary Boleyn's scandalous past was not something she herself had wanted. If Katherine was right, Thomas Boleyn had quite a lot to answer for.

"Well, you won't know until you speak to him, and you can't let yourself worry too much. It won't help anyone."

Anne nodded. "I know that, but... She's my sister. And she's the oldest; she always watched out for George and me when we were little. It's the least I can do now to watch out for her when she needs it."

* * *

Frances watched her cousin and the Bavarian Duke walking in the gardens with a scowl on her face and fists clenched. How could things have gone so wrong? She'd been so sure that she'd convinced Mary to marry James, but here she was walking with Philip of Bavaria, a bright smile on her face.

"Any other cousin would smile to see her so happy," a sharp voice said from behind her, and Frances spun around to see Catherine Brooke standing there, a mocking smile on her face.

"What do you want, _Mistress_ Brooke?" she said, emphasizing the other woman's lesser title in an attempt to intimidate her.

All she got in return was a raised eyebrow. "I was just wondering how it feels to see your little plans going up in smoke."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy; it doesn't suit you. Why were you so very determined to see the Princess marry your brother?"

"I love my brother and my cousin; of course I want to see them happy together," Frances said innocently.

Cathy rolled her eyes. "Yes, and that's why you've been whispering in dark corners with the Scottish ambassador."

"I think you've been at court too long, Mistress Brooke; you see conspiracies everywhere."

"No, just when they're present," Cathy shot back. "And if you just want to see your brother and cousin happy, you'd be glad to see Mary happy with the Duke, and then concentrate on finding someone _else_ to make your brother happy."

"You don't know anything, Mistress Brooke, and I thank you not to talk of things which you do not understand. Mary is a Princess of England; she should not lower herself to marry a German Duke. I'm just disappointed that she doesn't seem to know that." And Frances swept off, not wishing to continue an argument with a girl who was so very beneath her. Cathy watched her go, disgusted.

"I wonder what she won't get from the ambassador now her plan's failed," the girl muttered to herself, before glancing at Mary and Philip again, smiling slightly. It was good to see Mary happy, with a man who seemed to really love her. Cathy knew Mary wanted that; she'd seen what the King had, both with Queen Katherine and Lady Anne, and she wanted something like that for herself. Cathy couldn't blame her – she wanted that too. But she was a bit more afraid of it, thanks to the example of her guardians. It was true, the Duke and Princess Margaret got on much better these days, but there had been times when the Brandon home – or court apartments – had felt like a battleground. If that was what could happen to love, Cathy was content to wait.

But for Mary, it was different. She might never have another chance to find love, so this was her friend's moment. And Cathy wasn't going to begrudge it, or cheapen it, and that was why she turned away and went back inside. Because really, the royals were on constant display; didn't Mary and Philip deserve to have no one watching for a while?

* * *

The prince and princess had been left in the children's nursery. Missy and Harry were there too, along with Ned, but Lady Bryan had 'suggested' that they leave the prince and princess to get to know each other. So they were all but ignoring the young royals. Cecily wished she could ignore Philip, especially when his expression was so very arrogant, as though there was something smelly under his nose.

"What's wrong with you?" she finally demanded, glaring at him.

"Excuse me?" he snapped, giving her a dirty look.

"You act like there's something wrong with us."

"I do not wish to be here, and I certainly do not wish to marry you, when my blood sets me above you."

Cecily stood up so quickly that she knocked her stool over, and Lady Bryan came hurrying over to calm the situation. But the young princess ignored the governess and drew herself up to her full height, such as it was, looking down her nose at this Spanish prince who thought he was so much better than she was.

"Well, Master Superiority, don't think that I want to marry you, either! I'd rather marry the kitchen boy!"

"Your Highness!" Lady Bryan said reprovingly, drawing the fuming young girl away. The two young royals glared at each other even as their governesses separated them. The two adults shared a look of understanding – this could not be mentioned to the children's parents. Philip and Cecily were going to be married, and that would continue to be true even if they hated each other now, even if they continued to hate each other once they were wed.

* * *

Henry could tell that something was bothering Anne. Sometimes he couldn't – she was not as adept as Katherine at concealing her feelings, but there were times she could fool him. But right now, her tension was obvious. "Sweetheart, what is it?"

"Hmm?" Anne said, looking around at him. She'd been staring down at her plate, lost in thought. "Oh, I'm sorry, Henry, I was just thinking about my sister."

Mary again? He liked Lady Carey, but she did have a talent for getting herself in trouble. "Is she all right?" he asked, frowning.

"For the most part, it's just... She's remarried. She married a man-at-arms, one of our uncle Norfolk's retinue. His name is William Stafford. And my father didn't take it well, he tried to tell me that I need to banish her from court, because she's shamed our family. But I don't want to do that. Mary has always done as she's told, or followed the lead of others, she's never chosen for herself. Now that she has, now that she's fallen in love... I have to be happy for her, and I have to support her. It's just that I'm trying to figure out how. Mary I can easily give a permanent place to in my household, but William is the problem. I might somehow be able to attach him to my service, but I'm not sure what place to give him."

Henry frowned. Rochford should not be bothering Anne about this; if he wanted his daughter gone he should have handled it himself. This wasn't the first time the man had proven less than an ideal father, and Henry did not approve. He would never disregard his daughters the way Rochford sometimes seemed to do with Mary. He was always attentive to Anne, but considering Mary's fate, Henry found himself questioning the man's sincerity. And there was Katherine's attitude toward Anne's father... Sometimes he wondered if his Queen knew something he didn't.

Once, he might have agreed that Mary ought to be summarily dismissed from court, her husband with her. But he knew Mary, he knew her children. They were a sweet little family, and he didn't see why a woman who had already done her duty by her family couldn't seek some happiness for herself. Mary was a private person, she had no responsibilities that she was shirking with this marriage; her greatest duty was as a mother, and giving her children a new father could only help them. She certainly didn't seem to be hurting anyone, and better an honorable marriage than a clandestine affair.

"Why don't I take Mr. Stafford as one of my gentleman ushers, Anne?" he suggested. "I surely have room in my household for one more. And in any case, the man is now uncle to our daughter and our unborn child, I should get to know him."

Anne chuckled. "Henry, how well do you know your gentleman ushers?"

He frowned playfully at her. "I know them well enough, thank you, and I shall certainly make an effort to get to know Master Stafford."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, I really do appreciate this."

"Think nothing of it. I'm glad to do it."

* * *

It wasn't the Queen's permission that Philip of Bavaria needed in order to formally ask Princess Mary to marry him, but he still felt he should get Katherine of Aragon's blessing. Mary was very close to her mother, and the Spanish, fiercely Catholic Queen was the one who was probably more uncomfortable with Philip's suit. He was a Protestant, after all. So it was with more than a little trepidation that he asked to speak to the Queen.

When he was ushered inside by one of the ladies-in-waiting, the Queen looked at him with calm blue eyes as she set aside a piece of embroidery. "Your Majesty," he said, sweeping her a deep bow.

"Your Grace. What is it you wished to speak to me about?" She gestured to a chair, indicating that he should take the offered seat. He did so gratefully – he was steady on his feet now, but depending on how things went, that could change. He wanted Mary's mother to approve of him; he could tell that Mary valued Queen Katherine's opinion highly, possibly even above that of the King. And he himself admired the woman; she was in quite an unusual position at court, with the Lady Anne serving as, essentially, a secondary consort. He wasn't familiar with the handmaid concept – it had been banned in Protestant countries – but he was sure it couldn't be easy. He had to admire anyone who handled such a situation with a calm grace, as the Queen did.

He offered a polite smile and then began to explain himself. "I came here to meet your daughter, the Princess Mary, and... I did not expect what I found. I expected her to be gracious, as a well-brought up princess would be, but she is so much more than that. She is truly kind, and intelligent as well. I find that I have become quite fond of her, that I may even correctly use the word love. If His Majesty agrees, I would like to make her my wife, and I would seek your blessing."

Katherine studied the young man, liking the sincerity she saw in his dark eyes. She already knew that Philip was drawn to Mary; he had not hidden it well, assuming he'd been trying to conceal it. She was glad to see someone caring so deeply for her beloved daughter, and it boded well for their future together. Of course, she and Henry had once been the same, and all that had saved them was bringing a third party into their marriage. But there was no need to be bitter over that; it had worked out well for all concerned, so far. And it wasn't time to think of her own life now; it was time to consider her daughter's future happiness.

There was one thing, though, that she could not get past. "You are a Lutheran," she said flatly. "How can I allow my daughter to marry a heretic?"

"I was raised in the Lutheran faith, but I would never ask Princess Mary to change her religion. It is such a strong part of who she is, and I love her exactly as she is."

The tone was strong, the words comforting, but Katherine still had a question. "And your children? If you are of one faith and my daughter of another, what will you teach them?"

"Cleves is Catholic in form, though my uncle took his country away from papal authority, so it is likely that they will be Catholic. But I thought... I thought they would have the chance to see both faiths, and I trust that God would direct them to the truth. I myself do not know if, seeing the everyday practice of Catholicism, I won't find that it is the true way to worship. I know nothing but the faith I was raised in."

Katherine looked at the boy – no, he wasn't a boy. He was a young man, just as her Mary was no longer a girl but a young woman. And she could see that Duke Philip meant what he said. Despite her misgivings, despite everything... He loved her daughter. She had agreed with Anne that love was too precious to give up. Could she really deny her daughter a chance at love?

A short time later, Philip left the Queen's rooms, and Katherine sent one of her ladies to fetch her daughter. Mary came within minutes, her eyes wide. Katherine dismissed her ladies, making Mary all the more concerned. "Mother, is everything all right?"

"Of course it is, Mary, I just wanted to talk to you. The Duke of Bavaria came to see me."

Mary dropped into the chair – the same one Philip had sat in less than an hour before – with a bit more force than she'd planned. But then, shock tended to have that sort of effect. Philip had spoken to her mother? She'd expected that he would have to speak to her father – they'd been talking about it in the garden yesterday – but...

"He... He did? What did he say?"

"He said that he loved you, and wished my blessing on a marriage between you."

Mary's breath caught in her throat. Philip's religion had ceased to matter to her; she was so happy to have found someone she could see herself loving for her whole life to think about it. Besides, they'd talked about sharing their faiths with each other, being open about it. If she could be friends with Lady Anne and with Kate, both of whom were interested in reform, she could overlook Philip's faith because she loved him. Besides, maybe she could teach him the truth by her example.

"And... And what did you tell him?" she asked her mother, her voice tremulous. She wanted her mother to be proud of her, and she didn't know how Katherine would react.

Katherine smiled sadly, reaching out to take her daughter's hand. "Do you love him, _mi cielo_?"

Mary felt tears sting her eyes at her mother's use of the old nickname, one she hadn't heard since she was a little girl. But she wasn't that little girl anymore, and her feelings for Philip brought that home in a way nothing else did. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I do, Mama," she said after a moment, responding to her old nickname with a child's address. "Please say you'll be happy for me, if Papa says yes."

"Oh, Mary..." Katherine stood, standing up and pulling her daughter with her. Then she wrapped her arms around Mary in a tight embrace. This was her little girl, her only child, but Mary was a woman now, and Katherine was going to have to let her go. At least she could know that Mary would be happy – Henry favored the Bavaria-Cleves alliance, and he was sentimental. This match would happen. And to see her daughter happy and safe as a Duchess, even married to a Duke whose faith was questionable... It was better than seeing her as Queen of Scotland where she might be unhappy and even in danger.

"I told him he had my blessing," she said, stepping back and framing Mary's face in her hands. "He loves you, my daughter, and that is a blessing in itself. God does not always grant that gift to those of us in high station; I could not take it from you."

"Thank you, Mama," Mary said with a watery smile. Then, noticing that her mother's eyes were wet too, she said, "I'm always your little girl, your daughter, no matter what."

Mother and daughter hugged again, both of them ignoring the tears that mingled on their cheeks, because they both understood something. This was a happy moment, but it was also a good-bye. Even the final farewell would not be like this, because this... This was the moment when Katherine let her daughter go to become a woman on her own, and when Mary took that chance. This was a good-bye far more potent than that of any leave-taking.

* * *

The banquet given at the end of May was a double celebration. It was officially to honor the signing of a peace treaty between England and Spain, sealed with the betrothal of Princess Cecily and Prince Philip, but there was another engagement being celebrated. Princess Mary was to marry Philip, Duke of Bavaria, and the whole court could see that the pair of them were very much in love. They did not trouble to hide it now; there was no need to.

Everyone's attention was caught by the sweet spectacle of the King spinning his younger daughter around the floor before allowing her to dance a careful little dance with her betrothed, before both children were led out of the banquet hall by their governesses. Neither child really noticed the amused smiles on the faces of the adults; they were still too unhappy over having to dance with each other. Or rather, Philip was; Cecily had enjoyed showing the court how good she was at dancing, and thought having to do so with that annoying Spanish boy was a small price to pay.

Henry watched his younger daughter leave, then held out his hand to Mary. He danced two sets with his elder daughter, leading her out with a proud smile on his face. Mary danced with her father, the careful steps of her childhood replaced with a young woman's grace. When the third song began, Henry gestured to Philip, and in front of his entire court, stepped back to let the young Duke claim his elder daughter for the rest of the night's dancing.

He looked back at his Queen and his Lady, both of them sitting on the royal dais. Anne's belly was curving now, their new child growing there, her face as beautiful as ever. And Katherine, while not the young beauty she had once been, was still captivating and regal. He was truly blessed in his family.

It was Katherine who understood what he was feeling now, as he returned to the dais and squeezed her hand lightly. Their daughter was leaving them, but at least she would be happy. Anne looked at them both, offering a soft smile, because while she could not quite understand what it was like to know the moment had come for good-bye, seeing Cecily with Prince Philip had told her the wait would not be as long as she would like.

Mary looked back at her parents once, and somehow she knew what they were thinking. The marriage would not take place for at least a year, but that was not the point. The point was that they were letting her go, they were telling her it was all right to grow up, to love Philip and to dream of her life with him.

"Are you happy, Mary?" Philip asked her quietly.

She smiled at him, her mother's smile with her father's confidence. "Yes, I'm happy."

A/N: OK, there was a part of this that had me trying not to cry as I wrote it – that would have been bad since my roommate is sleeping. See if you can figure out which part it was.


	41. All or Nothing

Disclaimer: Not mine, or I wouldn't be a semi-broke uni student, would I?

_**Chapter 40 – All or Nothing:**_ Anne went into confinement at the beginning of August. This time she wasn't as reluctant as she had been when she gave birth to Cecily – she was too grateful to have made it this far to resent being shut away in darkened rooms. She had Kate and Mary with her anyway, and Kate's sister Annie as well. The younger Parr girl had opened up after some initial stiffness, and had proven herself to be just as bright as her older sister, if a bit quieter.

So it wasn't like last time, when she'd had to force herself to accept this particular tradition. In some ways, she almost welcomed the chance to get away from the bustle of the court, especially when she could feel everyone's eyes on her. They all wondered if her child would be a boy, if Henry would finally get his Prince of Wales and if she would be part of the royal family permanently.

But it could still be horribly boring. She passed the time reading, or talking with Kate, Mary, and Annie. Cecily was brought to see her at least once a day, and Missy was usually with her. The little girls were a source of entertainment for them all. Katherine visited when she could, though she couldn't come too often without people asking questions. George came from time to time, and Henry visited regularly. Thanks to all of them, Anne wasn't entirely cut off from the rest of the world.

Katherine was visiting one day in early September, and Anne smiled when the other woman came in and took the chair next to the bed. They spoke of pleasantries until Annie and Kate drifted into the other room, letting both royal women relax.

"I'm glad you could come – no one's saying anything, are they?" Anne said, frowning.

"No, the court is discussing other things. I believe there are some new scandals to keep them distracted."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Aren't there always?"

"Of course. How have you been feeling?" Katherine couldn't help but note that, while Anne supposedly had over a month to go before the birth of her newest child, she looked as though she could go into labor at any time. Had the doctors miscalculated?

"Tired, bored, and I want this to be over." Anne grinned ruefully. "But that's normal, so I'm not worried."

Katherine shook her head. "You know it's all worth it in the end."

"Exactly. But... What if it's another girl? In 1535..."

Katherine reached out and took the younger woman's hand, squeezing it tightly. "If it's another girl, then worry about what might happen. Don't let it trouble you now, it won't do any of us any good. I know how you feel right now – who better than I? But it doesn't help to torment yourself like this. Believe me."

"But if I... If I can't give Henry his son, he'll replace me, and what happens to Cecily then? What will happen to you if the new handmaid wants to be Queen?"

"Cecily will be fine – she will still have you no matter what, Henry wouldn't take her away from you. And don't worry about me – that is not your responsibility."

Anne shook her head. "I care about you, of course I'm going to worry about you. If something happens because I couldn't do what I was supposed to... Then it's my fault."

"_No_," Katherine said firmly. "No, it would not be your fault. And it's because I care about you that I tell you not to worry about this now. It does none of us any good, not before we have to. And right now we don't. Right now there is still hope, and enough time for everything to work out."

Anne tried to smile, though it was clearly an effort. Then, suddenly, Katherine saw the other woman's eyes widen with shock. Anne tightened her hold on Katherine's hand, gasping roughly. "Oh God, I think... I think I'm about to have the baby."

* * *

"Mary, are you going to go away?"

Mary looked around to see Cecily standing in her doorway. Cathy was behind her, hovering in a rather uncertain way. "I don't know how she got here," Mary's friend said, utterly bewildered.

"Cecily, how did you get out of the nursery?"

The little girl smiled, a child's version of her mother's smile. "Harry and Ned pretended to fight really loud, and Lady Bryan was scolding them. I ran away then." She looked so proud of herself, but then her little face crumpled. "They said you're leaving. You're not, are you?"

Mary dropped to her knees so that she could be on eye level with her little sister. "I'm not leaving for another year or two, but I am going to leave one day," she said honestly. She and Philip weren't going to marry yet because his uncle the Duke of Cleves felt that it would be a distraction as he learned statecraft. It was well enough for Philip to personally woo a bride in order to give himself an advantage, but now that the agreement had been made, it was back to business. Mary didn't think she would like the Duke of Cleves when she met him.

"But why do you have to go away?" Cecily asked plaintively.

Mary opened her arms and her sister ran into them. Hugging the girl tightly, Mary tried to explain. "You've met Duke Philip. You like him, don't you?" Philip had found the younger Princess sweet and had taken the time to speak with her for a few minutes on the few occasions where their paths had crossed. He'd joked to Mary that he'd had to; she'd never forgive him if he wasn't nice to her sister. But Cecily had a certain charm; few people didn't like her.

Cecily moved back a little, dark eyes on Mary's face. "Duke Philip is nice. But what does he have to do with it?"

"Well, I'm going to marry him, because I love him. The way Lady Kate and Lord Hal love each other." She used them rather than their own family because Kate and Hal's situation was more straightforward. "So, since he's going to have a country to run, I have to go live with him there."

"But I don't want you to go! I'll miss you!"

"I'll miss you too, Cecily, but I'll write, and maybe I'll visit." Mary certainly hoped she'd be able to visit, and there was a chance of it. Possibly.

"Can I come visit you? I have to go to Spain and I don't want to, can't I visit you instead?"

Mary gave her a mock-stern expression. "I don't see why not, but why don't you want to go to Spain, Cecily?"

"Prince Philip isn't nice. He thinks he's better than I am. I wish I could have shoved him in a fountain like Missy did to Harry, then he'd have known better. But we were never near any fountains."

Mary suddenly remembered pushing down the little Dauphin because he wouldn't accept her kiss, and was hard-pressed to keep from giggling. She shouldn't find it funny, but she did. She couldn't help it, not when she remembered that childish indignation so clearly. And when had Missy shoved Harry into a fountain? She wished she'd seen that!

"Well, maybe he'll grow up," she told her sister bracingly. Then she stood, offering her hand to the small girl, who clung to it. "Now, we need to get you back to Lady Bryan before she panics over losing you." The damage was probably already done, but if Cecily came back quickly it would be lessened.

They were walking back to the nursery when a maid rushed by them, almost crashing into them. She was carrying a stack of linens, and almost dropped them. Mary steadied the woman's load, giving her a kind smile since she looked so scared. "Is everything all right?"

"Y-yes," the maid said. "I have to take these to the Lady Pembroke's chambers."

Anne? What had happened? But she couldn't ask. Cecily had already recognized one of the names used for her mother, and was staring at them with wide, dark eyes. So Mary gestured for the maid to leave, which she did very quickly, and Mary continued on with Cecily.

"Mary, is Mama going to go to sleep for days and days again? Last time people ran around and she didn't wake up for so long, what's happened now?"

"I'm sure everything is fine, Cecily," Mary said with a confidence she did not have. She didn't know what was happening, after all, but really... If it was that serious, they'd have heard by now. So it was probably nothing. The maid was probably new, and so rushing about so as to make sure she did everything right. Mary told her sister that, and they continued on to the nursery. She just hoped she hadn't lied to Cecily.

* * *

Anne was distantly aware that Katherine had been asked to leave, though she wasn't entirely sure why, and she knew Kate was holding her hand like last time and Annie was hovering uncertainly, but none of this really mattered. All she could think was that it _didn't hurt this much last time_ and _is something wrong_? The midwives were muttering things to themselves, and then shouting at Annie to leave, and the pain seemed to be overwhelming her mind.

She didn't even feel it when her child was actually born, or rather couldn't pick the feeling out of her overall pain, but a baby's cry did draw her attention. "A healthy daughter, my lady," the chief midwife said. Anne blinked up at her, feeling a horrible sense of defeat crashing over her. Then that was gone, washed away in another wave of pain, and she screamed. If her child was born, why did it still hurt so much?

"My God, there are two..." Sarah Bennet had gotten her wish to attend on the Lady Anne at her birth – in fact she was in charge since no one had expected the birth so soon and her aunt was not here. This had not been what she'd expected, but there was a second head crowning, so she pushed aside her panic and went to work.

A few moments later, another baby's cry could be heard, and Anne, who had all but passed out near the end, opened her eyes tiredly. "What... What is it?"

"It's a boy, my lady, a healthy boy. He's a bit small, so is his sister, but as you can hear – " both babies were still wailing " – they're both strong. Two healthy children, madam."

The relief was beyond anything she'd experienced in her entire life. A son. She was thrilled at the prospect of another daughter, another little girl to spoil, but she'd given Henry the son he wanted. That meant she would be able to stay with her daughters, and with Katherine. She wouldn't have to leave everyone she loved behind.

Once they were sure she was steady enough, she was given both of her children to hold, one in each arm. Both of them were awake but quiet now, their eyes the pale blue all babies' were at birth. Her breath caught in her throat, as it had the first time she'd seen Cecily. But then something made her look up, to where Katherine stood in the open doorway. She met her Queen's eyes, thinking, _We're all safe now.

* * *

_

He had a son. Finally, after all the years of worry, of miscarriages and affairs and that one brutal attack, Henry had a son and heir. A third daughter was just a bonus; she could be useful in making an alliance and he was sure she'd be as pretty and clever as Mary and Cecily were. He couldn't remember ever being quite this thrilled in his life.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said, kissing Anne on the cheek.

She smiled at him. "What do you think we should name them?" she asked him.

He had given much thought to a boy's name, but not much to a girl's. Still, his daughter's name was obvious. "Elizabeth for the girl," he said firmly. "For your mother and mine." He knew Anne could not remember her mother, and his had been only a remote figure in his life. Their daughter would be Elizabeth, but unlike the women she was named for, her parents would be a strong force in her life.

As for their son... He had discarded Henry immediately. Twice he'd used that name for a son, and both times the child had died young. Katherine's little Duke of Cornwall, Bessie's Henry Fitzroy... His two little boys, lost so young. And Anne's first boy, the murdered child, he too would have been Henry had he lived... No, he could not use Henry.

Next had been Edward, but that wouldn't work either. His other bastard's name was Edward, he would not have his real son connected with that traitor's brat. So he had considered all the names associated with the Tudors and the Plantagenets. He'd paused at Jasper, but it was too Welsh for a future King of England. The same was true of Owen, another Tudor name he rather liked. Perhaps if he had a second son...

His grandfather's name had been Edmund. A Welsh name, appropriate for a Prince of Wales, but not so Welsh as to offend Englishmen. And it matched up nicely with Elizabeth. "We'll call our son Edmund," he told her, and Anne nodded.

"Edmund and Elizabeth. A nice pair," she said with a grin.

They discussed godparents next. Henry wanted his sister to stand as Elizabeth's godmother, and Anne could see no reason to object. Margaret had been nothing but polite to her since her return to court; she was Henry's sister and Elizabeth's aunt. "All right. What about the other godmother for her? I'd like for my sister to stand for her."

"I don't see why not," Henry said after a moment. " And for Edmund we should have my Mary. She carried the chrism oil for Cecily, it's fitting that she should have a greater role now that she's a woman grown. Cranmer can be Elizabeth's godfather, and we can have the Emperor for Edmund. If you'd like, your father can be his second godfather."

Anne smiled. "I'm sure Papa would be honored," she said. "And I think having Mary as Edmund's godmother is a wonderful idea."

Henry beamed at her. To be honest, he'd been beaming at a lot of people since the news had been brought to him, clapping Anne's brother-in-law William on the shoulder when the man had relayed the message from Lady Surrey.

"Mama? Papa?" They both turned to see Cecily, but it wasn't Lady Bryan with her. Instead it was Mary. "We wanted to see the babies," Cecily told her parents cheerfully.

Mary smiled at them. "Congratulations, Father, Anne. You don't mind me bringing Cecily, do you?"

"No, of course not," Anne said before Henry could. He decided not to repeat Anne's words, but walked over to his girls, tossing Cecily up in the air before settling her in one arm and wrapping the other around Mary's shoulders.

"Not at all. Now why don't you come and meet Edmund and Elizabeth?" he said jovially.

Anne watched Henry show Cecily the babies, hearing her exclamation of surprised joy, and how they were so different from dolls. That almost made her laugh, and Mary seemed to find it funny as well. Katherine's daughter, meanwhile, looked down at her new siblings in much the same way Anne remembered a younger Mary looking at Cecily.

Only Katherine was missing from this moment, and Anne knew that was actually for the best. There was no need to raise Henry's suspicions. Especially not now. Everything was going to be all right. For the first time since she'd become handmaid, Anne felt she could truly relax. She'd done what she set out to do.

A/N: All right... The next chapter will be the final actual chapter, followed by an epilogue. I hope you guys will keep reading to the end, if you've made it this far.


	42. No Day But Today

Disclaimer: Do I still really have to do this?

_**Chapter 41 – No Day But Today:**_ "My God, I think every noble family in the country's trying for a place," Kate lamented, shaking her head as she looked over the letters asking for places in Anne's new household. Now that Anne would be officially created Princess Consort after she was churched, she would preside over an establishment as large as the Queen's. Kate had been surprised when she was chosen as chief lady-in-waiting over Mary, but Anne had pointed out that she'd been an official companion for longer than Mary had, and Mary wouldn't have wanted the job anyway.

Even though Mary didn't want an official job in her sister's household, her husband had one. William Stafford had been moved from Henry's retinue to become Anne's steward, and now the two of them were poring over the requests for places, deciding who would be best.

"Well, what about this one? Katherine Howard?"

"Oh, that's one of Hal's cousins – Anne's already said she'll take Hal's sister Mary. But Katherine... We went to Lambeth last year to visit the Dowager Duchess, she can't be older than thirteen!"

"She's twelve according to this," Will said, holding up the letter. "But girls have come to court at that age before. Surely it's better here for her than there; I've not heard much good of the household at Lambeth."

"No, it did seem a bit... Well, I don't want to say anything since I don't actually know, but you might have a point there. And I suppose the sooner the girl gets out, the better. Besides, Norfolk's already up in arms over us being in charge of Anne's household; we don't need to give him more reason to complain until we have to." She gave her companion a sly smile. "We hear enough as it is."

Will chuckled, though it was nothing but the truth. Norfolk and Rochford had been furious to find out that their children's hated spouses were now running Anne's household. He suspected that was because the men knew he and Kate wouldn't allow them to fill Anne's household with their spies. They'd kept the maids who were already spying simply because it was easier to deal with the spy you knew was there. "True enough. But it doesn't bother me. What about you?"

"Not particularly. So, we take Katherine Howard - or no, Kitty is what she likes to be called – and who else out of this batch?"

"Well, there's Joan Guildford. This says she was supposed to be one of Katherine's women, but a family illness prevented it. Apparently she's to be married soon, but her husband-to-be – John Dudley – is a court man. He'd like his future wife to have a place."

"Hmm. Well, Dudley's up-and-coming, it's not a bad idea to make a friend of him. How many of these do we still have to go through?"

"At least a dozen, and you know more will be coming."

Kate smiled wryly. "Oh, I'm sure. Well, the sooner we get it done..."

* * *

Eustace Chapuys was not a father personally, but he came from a rather large family, and so holding infants was something he had occasionally done before. To his relief, though, baby Prince Edmund seemed sufficiently fascinated by the ornate surroundings at Westminster Abbey and did not wriggle the way his nieces and nephews had done. His twin, Princess Elizabeth, was a bit more lively in the grip of her aunt, Margaret Tudor, but neither child was crying. He'd been present for other christenings, had stood as godfather several times, and he was glad these children were mostly quiet, though Edmund was whimpering a little. Screaming in a church tended to echo.

Thomas Boleyn, newly created Earl of Wiltshire, was standing next to Chapuys, looking extremely smug. Mary Tudor, on Chapuys' other side, was ignoring her siblings' unpleasant grandfather as she made her promises as godmother. Aunt Margaret did the same, then Chapuys and Cranmer – who was also performing the ceremony – made their vows as godfathers. Then Mary Stafford and Thomas Boleyn spoke as second godparents. When the water was splashed over first Edmund and then Elizabeth, they cried out loudly. That was good, Mary remembered, because it meant the Devil had been sent out of them. At Cecily's baptism, she'd been unhappy that her sister had cried, until her mother told her why. Now she just smiled.

The procession was very similar to the last one, only this time two babies were handed to Anne. She held a child in each arm, smiling down at them before lifting her head with a calm expression, appropriate for a royal mother.

It occurred to Mary suddenly that in a few years' time, this could be her. The thought filled her with a peculiar mix of joy and dread. She wasn't sure she was ready to handle such a thing yet. She was an experienced elder sister, but how would she be as a mother?

Cecily had been allowed to carry the chrism oil, held by her uncle George, but now she tugged on his sleeve to be let down. He looked down at her and must have realized she would try to jump down, because he carefully set her on her feet. She knew better than to run to her mother, because Mama was holding the babies, but she wanted to be closer, so she ran up to Mary and slid her small hand into her sister's, to quiet laughter from the courtiers as they began to file out. She didn't mind it; it wasn't mean laughing so it was all right. And Mama was smiling at her, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

* * *

Henry had truly outdone himself in terms of celebrations, and since Mary was pregnant, she couldn't even dance. So she was getting bored, but Anne had told her to "go spend time with your husband!" so here she was.

"So, Lady Stafford, shall we leave the party early or would someone notice?" he murmured in her ear. She smiled at the new title; Henry had knighted Will as part of the celebrations, as well as making her brother Earl of Ormonde. She'd been surprised when her father didn't get both earldoms, but perhaps the King suspected more than she gave him credit for.

"I think the only one who would notice is George, and he's busy teasing poor Mark over there."

Sometimes she wondered about her brother's friendship with the musician. It seemed very close, but she told herself not to worry about it. Whatever it was, it didn't matter now. With the birth of little Edmund, the Boleyns could do no wrong. So her half-formed fears could be laid to rest.

George saw Will lead Mary out and couldn't help but grin. He'd not been best pleased with Mary's choice of husband to begin with, but a blind man could see how much in love they were. So he was happy for her. Besides, Will was knighted now, and in charge of Anne's male household. So the Staffords weren't doing badly at all.

"So, my lord Ormonde, I must say that I can't blame your sister for leaving early," Mark said. His voice was mild enough, for the sake of any eavesdroppers, but the look in his eyes was one George was very familiar with. He decided it was truly a pity that he could not leave early himself. Even if he could, Mark would be missed if _he_ did. Even now Henry was calling for Mark's violin playing, and with a half smile George's lover left him.

George snagged a goblet of wine from a passing server and moved to lean back against the wall. He was less inclined to be at the center of the action at feasts these days, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps he was simply growing up. Anne and Mary would laugh at him and say it was about time.

Unbidden, his eyes were drawn to the Queen, who was talking quietly with her daughter and Princess Margaret. He didn't know how far her relationship with Anne had progressed; he didn't even know if Katherine was aware of how deep Anne's feelings ran. He'd never asked, and Anne had never shared of her own accord. But then, she didn't know about Mark either. Still, he knew the two women were close friends; he could tell Anne was happy so if that was all there was then it seemed to be enough for her.

He lifted his goblet slightly in a silent toast, though even he wasn't sure who he was toasting. His sister and her Queen, his other sister and her husband, Anne's twins, or someone else entirely. But as he drained the goblet and wandered off in search of something to do, he decided it didn't matter. All the news was good for once, no matter how you looked at it. That was worth a toast.

* * *

Anne stared at herself in the mirror as Annie Parr brushed out her hair one final time. She was wearing her hair loose today, because she was getting ready for the ceremony which would make her Princess Consort. It wasn't that different from a coronation, really, from what she'd been told ahead of time. It was at Westminster, just like a coronation, and the ritual itself was similar.

She'd chosen to wear purple today, to highlight her enhanced status. Around her neck was the B pendant George had given her, a reminder of where she'd come from. The gold B matched the gold accents on her dress, and the pearl earrings in her ears matched the necklace as well. The corset hid the fact that her body had not yet recovered from childbirth, and with her hair tumbling around her face, she looked almost the same as she had back when this all began. But her eyes showed the changes. They showed the weight of years wondering if things would work out, the scars of everything that had gone wrong in 1531, and it was the eyes that told her, if she had needed it, that she was not who she had been.

She didn't want to be. Her life was much richer, much happier than she could ever have imagined, and the pain she'd gone through only made her appreciate that more now. Anne smiled at her reflection, thinking that it was a miracle she'd made it this far, and she wasn't going to waste a minute of the life she was lucky enough to have.

And today would just set the seal on it. With that thought in mind, she had no problem holding her head high in the litter that took her from Hampton to Westminster. Unlike a coronation, there wasn't a formal, full-blown procession, but it was certainly close enough. Just like when the court went on progress, people were lining the streets. They were used to the sight of Lady Pembroke by now, and London in particular was fond of her. They adored their Queen Katherine, of course, but Anne's grandfather had been a mayor of London, had been one of them. So they had taken a shine to her.

Really, there were few differences between crowned as Queen and being confirmed as Princess Consort. One was that while there was a throne, Anne's place was in a chair to the left of that throne. There was another chair flanking the throne on the right – both of those were empty as neither Henry nor Katherine was supposed to attend this service. It was meant, Anne knew, to symbolize that she was joining an already-formed royal union.

Cranmer performed the Mass, and it was he who anointed her when she prostrated herself before the altar, before she returned to her chair. He was also the one who placed the tiara on her head. It was wrought gold and set with diamonds, and you could see it was old, though well taken care of. It had last been worn several hundred years ago, the last time a King had needed a handmaid who had then risen to the rank of Princess Consort.

As she felt its weight settle on her head, and the Mass continued, Anne looked out at the congregation, wondering if they felt as unreal as she did. Maybe it was the heady scent of the holy oil affecting her mind, that might explain it. She almost wished she could hold the sceptre and the ivory rod, though their absence was another difference between this and a proper coronation. Still, she wished for them, if only to have something to hold on to right now. It didn't seem like this could be really happening, but it was.

She saw her family in the crowd, sitting near the front. Her father's coldly proud expression meant nothing, but the encouraging looks from Mary and George, and from Kate in a different pew, meant more that she thought they could know. Those looks told her she wasn't dreaming, that this was real.

* * *

Anne was taking a moment to herself before the banquet, a moment she truly needed. She wished that Henry and Katherine would be with her, but it wasn't traditional for the King or Queen to be present during any of the festivities following a Princess Consort's confirmation, just as a King absented himself from his Queen's coronation. How they knew what was traditional for Princess Consorts when they were so rare was a question Anne had never bothered to ask. It wouldn't have done any good anyway.

Her door opened and she turned to order whoever was intruding to leave. But when Katherine stepped in, she smiled instead. "It's so good to see you," she said frankly. "It's been... so strange, today. I feel so unreal. Happy, but..."

"I know, you think something will never happen, and you wait so long for it that when it comes, it feels like a dream," Katherine said, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around the younger woman. They just stayed there like that for a moment, locked in a tight embrace. Then they pulled apart slowly, and there was a question in Anne's eyes. Katherine smiled, and Anne kissed her softly.

They didn't do much more than this, and that only rarely. The fact was, even now neither of them were exactly sure what else there could be with two women, and they didn't think they needed it. It was the feelings that mattered, and those they had. Besides, there was too much risk of getting caught.

"I can't believe we've made it," Anne said when they moved apart. "I honestly... It seemed like it wouldn't happen, so many times."

"I know. But we're here, aren't we?" Katherine asked.

"Yes, we are."

"And they'll be waiting for you," the Queen reminded the Princess Consort, a smile on her face. Anne rolled her eyes.

"I really don't want to sit through another long banquet," she said ruefully. "They're not as interesting as they used to be."

"You ought to enjoy it; it's in your honor, after all."

The younger woman raised an eyebrow. "Did that ever make them more interesting to _you_?" she asked dryly.

The question startled a laugh from Katherine. "No," she admitted. "But you know you still need to go."

"Well, all right, I suppose I will. I imagine I won't see you until tomorrow, so good night," Anne said, kissing Katherine on the cheek and walking out. Katherine watched her go, a pensive expression on her face as she remembered how this had all begun.

She'd just wanted an ally, a woman she could rely on not to use the handmaid position to hurt her or Mary. Katherine could still remember Anne's eyes the night Henry Fitzroy's birth was celebrated, the look in them that had made Katherine approach her about the position in the first place.

Never could she have predicted this. She could never have imagined a woman who would completely change her life, finding a place in her heart that she didn't even know needed filling. Her bond with Anne did not change how she felt about Henry – she had loved him since their marriage, and she always would – but it didn't have to. She knew Henry loved both her and Anne; love was, apparently, not the straightforward thing the poets liked it to be.

But Katherine wouldn't change it. Her daughter was happy and secure, betrothed to a man she loved. Katherine herself was safe forever, and now so was Anne. Cecily and the twins weren't hers, but as their stepmother she would have a role in their lives. And she would have at least one true friend in Anne. If nothing else, they would always be that, whatever other words could be applied to them. Katherine didn't even know if there was a word that fit. And it didn't matter. It was real, and true, and needed no such definition.

It was not the life she'd imagined back at the Alhambra before her marriage to Arthur, in the days with her first husband at Ludlow, or in the years of her widowhood. But it was a good life, and that was all anyone could ask for.

* * *

She ought to be in bed, Anne knew that, but she couldn't sleep. Not yet. So she was searching through her writing desk, trying to find one particular book. When she found it, she smiled. It was a simple enough book, with a cover of gold-tooled red leather. The pages inside were creamy, blank vellum. It was the diary her sister Mary had given her for her first Christmas as handmaid.

She'd never felt the need to write in it before, but all of a sudden, it just... felt right. But she didn't want a diary, a day-to-day recounting of her life. What would be the point of that now? To her, the most important thing was the story of the past few years. So, not a diary, but a memoir.

By candlelight, she sat down to start writing. But she wasn't sure how to begin. She brushed the quill feather across her chin, as she had done through all her lessons as a girl, trying to decide how to begin the story that had defined her whole life. When it hit her, she smiled and began to write.

A/N: I'm hoping some of you remembered that diary. I brought it in knowing I was going to do this, it'll be interesting to see the reactions to it. As for how she opened her memoir... I am not cruel enough to leave that a mystery forever. You'll find out in the epilogue. And the chapter title... If you're thinking of RENT, good catch. The song Finale B would not leave my mind when I thought of this chapter, so I thought it fit.


	43. You Think You Know a Story

Disclaimer: No. It's not mine. You know this.

A/N: OK, so... Here it is. We've reached the end of Handmaid, and... Well. I'm not entirely sure what to say. I can only thank those of you who have come this far with me. Special thanks to anyone who helped with questions or plot points on the forums, and to ReganX for all the brainstorming she did with me along the way. There are two spin-offs to this story, Snapshots of a Royal Family and Spanish Pride, English Prejudice. Both should be up on my profile, along with my new, unrelated fic, Standing Outside the Fire. As in this one I tackled Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, turning an epic rivalry into a strong alliance, now I'm playing with Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour – but the reason for their tie is very different. I hope you guys will check them out, and that you like them as much as so many of you have liked this. Handmaid is the most popular story I've ever written, and that's down to you guys.

Sorry for the extra-long note, but here's the epilogue. One final thing about the story itself, I've aged up Mary Stewart, so that she was born in 1535.

_**June 1552**_

_**Epilogue – "You Think You Know a Story...":**_ The palace had not run so mad since Edmund's coronation two years ago. Not that Owen Tudor was surprised. The teenage Duke of York understood that this marriage to Mary of Scotland would not only secure the succession, but would also unite England and Scotland. So perhaps his brother's nerves were understandable. But still... "Edmund, stop pacing, will you? You're going to wear a hole in the floor!"

"I'm getting married, Owen, I've a right to be nervous."

"It's hardly the first time you've bedded a woman," Owen pointed out bluntly.

"Somehow," a calm voice cut in, "I don't think that's what has him so worried." Edward Fitzroy had been an outcast from the Tudor family until he was twelve, when a meeting with his father at the St. Peter ad Vincula chapel had slowly begun his reconciliation with his father's family. He'd ended up in the schoolroom with Edmund and all three brothers were close now, over a decade later. Edward had even been made Earl of Richmond a few months before, when he had married Anne Stafford, Edmund and Owen's cousin. He tended to be the voice of cool reason among the young men who surrounded the King, a trait no one could figure out the origin of. His foster brother Nathaniel was as hotheaded as the rest of them, so it was really anyone's guess.

But he was right, and Edmund shot him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Edward," he said, shooting Owen an annoyed look. "Whether I've had women before or not isn't the point, Owen. What if I hate her, or she hates me? I mean, no matter what, we're stuck together."

Owen had to admit that, put like that, his brother's fears made more sense. Their father had been lucky; he'd loved both of the women who had been his consorts. Most kings and princes did not have that luxury. They were fortunate if they grew to care for the wives, and the wives for them.

"Oh, you'll be fine," he said bracingly. It was the best he could do now.

"I certainly hope so," Edmund said ruefully.

"It might be best to stop worrying," Edward advised, his voice mild. "It can't help you, and Owen's right about the hole. That would be inconvenient."

Edmund and Owen shot their half-brother identical looks of exasperation. Edward's sense of humor had always been strange. Shaking his head, Owen grinned at Edmund. "It'll all work out. I'm sure of it."

* * *

"After the celebrations for Edmund's wedding are over, he'll look to my marriage."

"Maybe if I talk to him? We've been friends all our lives; maybe he'll listen to me," Robert Dudley suggested.

Elizabeth shook her head, giving Robert a rueful look from across the table. She started to pick up her pawn to start their chess game, then sighed. "I can't concentrate. It's not worth playing. As for you talking to Edmund, I don't know if friendship will be enough. He knows how useful princesses are in terms of diplomacy. There's talk of sending me to France again to balance out Cecily's Spanish match. I'm not sure who they'd marry me to now – Charles of Valois died within two months of our marriage, but there must be someone since it's a possibility. And it makes sense – I went to France once already, why not a second time?"

"Is that certain yet? Can't he just use Owen and marry him off to a French princess?"

"No, it's not certain, and you may have a point. I'm just not sure my brother will see it that way." Truthfully, she thought that he wouldn't.

Elizabeth had loved Robert for what seemed like all her life. They'd been friends since they were small children, as he'd been one of her brother's schoolroom companions. Their shared birthday, September seventh, had felt like a sign, but their respective positions...

Robert was the King's master of horse, one of his most trusted friends. Elizabeth was the King's sister, dreading a political marriage. One would have to be a fool not to see the parallels between their situation and that of Elizabeth's Aunt Margaret and Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. That romance had worked out; as for her and Robert, Elizabeth feared that they may not be so fortunate.

Was it worth risking everything to be with Robert? She didn't know, but she believed it would be. Still, maybe it wouldn't come to that. There was a chance that she and Robert could talk Edmund around, especially if they got Cecily on their side. Owen was only a teenager; even though he was the current heir, he had little influence on Edmund when it came to matters of state. But all three of the younger Tudors had grown up listening to Cecily; even though Mary was the oldest Tudor princess, she'd left when the twins were three and before Owen was even born. And Cecily was coming back from Spain for the wedding.

So Elizabeth's plan was to talk to Cecily. If she could get her sister's support, chances were the thing was in the bag. If she couldn't get Cecily to help... Then she didn't know what would happen.

* * *

It had been almost twenty years since Mary Tudor had seen her homeland, and she wasn't alone. Philip and their two children had accompanied her back for her brother's wedding, which made it even better for her. She would see Cecily and the twins again; she would get to meet Owen, and her son and daughter would get to know their aunts and uncles.

Almost immediately after reaching Greenwich, after dealing with the pomp surrounded by a foreign arrival, the quartet from Cleves were treated to their first genuine greeting. The blonde noblewoman swept them a deep curtsey, a bright smile on her face. "Your Highness, Your Grace, welcome back," she said, her voice light and holding a hint of humor in it. Mary recognized the dancing blue-green eyes immediately.

"Kate, get up! You know I don't like you standing on ceremony with me!" Mary said, pulling the older woman upright.

"I know that, but your husband wasn't part of that. I couldn't know that he would agree," Kate explained.

"He is agreeing now," Philip cut in, while their children watched the scene unfold with bewildered amusement, "provided someone introduces me."

Mary laughed. "Surely you met Katherine Parr – er, Howard, the Countess of Surrey, Philip?"

Kate smiled. "I'm actually the Duchess of Norfolk now," she commented. "Elizabeth is of the opinion that her great-uncle Howard was spinning in his coffin before he was even in the ground."

"He never accepted you then?" Mary asked, frowning.

"No, and honestly I never expected or needed it."

Unsure of what else to say, Mary changed topics. "Has Cecily arrived yet?"

"No, but she should get here today or tomorrow – the ship was a day or two late setting out, apparently."

"The wedding is in a week, correct?" Philip wanted to know.

"Right, so she has time." Kate smiled and looked at the children. "Hello. I don't think we've been introduced."

"These are our children, Katherine and Philip," Mary said, putting a hand on each child's shoulder. Kate's smile widened as she curtsied to them. Katherine responded in kind while Philip bowed.

"We wanted them to meet their family," Philip explained.

"I'm sure the King and the others will be thrilled. Which reminds me, I'm to take you to see King Edmund now."

* * *

Mary wasn't the only one who brought children back to England with her. When the Princess of Asturias arrived in London the next day, she was accompanied by her eldest daughter, the Infanta Maria.

"It's cold here, Mama," Maria said in the slightly accented English her sometimes-homesick mother had taught her.

Cecily smiled down at her young daughter, remembering how she had initially found Spain to be unbearably hot. She'd grown accustomed now, but she was still glad to be home again.

Their escort through the city was a tall, fair-haired young man that Cecily had been thrilled to see again. Edward Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was still one of Cecily's favorite cousins. "Hello, Ned," she said when he came up to her, using the name she'd called him when they were children.

"Your Highnesses," he said, sweeping them a courtly bow.

Cecily glared at him. "Must you do that? I'm still your little cousin, you know."

"I was simply following procedure," he said brightly. "It's good to see you again, Cecily. Hello, Infanta Maria."

"Hello," Maria said. "Who are you?"

"Maria!" Cecily exclaimed, but there was amusement in her voice.

Edward laughed outright. "I'm your Mama's cousin," he said, dropping to his knees so that he was at eye level with the young girl. "And it's very good to meet you. You look very like your mother."

"Thank you," the princess said with a sunny smile.

"So, am I the last to arrive?" Cecily asked as Edward offered a hand to help her back into the litter she'd been sharing with her daughter.

"Yes, but Mary only arrived yesterday."

"How is she, and how are my other siblings?"

"Mary is well. She came with her husband and their two children. Edmund is fretting about his upcoming wedding, which amuses Owen to no end. As for Elizabeth... I'm starting to suspect that she and Robert Dudley may be thinking of following my parents' example."

"Really. Well, if that's true, Bess will have a plan. She always does. And you? Are you still a committed bachelor?"

"For the moment, though I imagine that could change. There's a new young woman at court, Amelia Knivert; I like her, but I can't say that anything more will happen. Her father was a friend of your father and mine, that might help my case with him. I would like to marry eventually; be a father."

Cecily thought of her own children; not just Maria who was sitting next to her, but also her little boy, Carlos, and the newest child, Anna. Smiling softly, she said, "Children are a blessing, so I hope it works out for you."

"So do I. At any rate, we'd best head off."

* * *

It had been nice to see her siblings again – including Edward Fitzroy. Cecily remembered her half-brother as someone never sure what place he had in the family, if any, but he seemed much more secure now. And he and Annie were clearly besotted with each other. It was nice to see. Edmund's nerves had calmed some, but she still spent some time talking to him about it, and what it was like to be in an arranged marriage in the early days. "Look at it like this," she'd said. "You're not starting out hating Mary." She and Owen had spent a good hour catching up. Her conversation with Elizabeth was the opposite; her younger sister simply said said they needed to talk later before the redhead hurried off to do... something.

But she had another place she needed to go, besides her siblings' chambers to talk to them. So she left Maria playing with Mary and Philip's children before going to Westminster Abbey. Her parents and stepmother were buried there, and she needed to pay her last respects. She hadn't been there for any of the funerals, and this was probably her last chance to say a proper goodbye.

Somehow she wasn't surprised to see Mary here as well. After all, her sister had missed the funerals too. Silently, Cecily moved up to her sister's side, slipping an arm around Mary's waist. Mary turned her head and smiled sadly.

"I wish I could have been here," Mary said quietly. "But no one even knew..."

Cecily knew what she meant. Both Katherine and Henry had died rather suddenly. It hadn't been a surprise, really, but... It had come so quickly, both times. And her own mother, not even dead a year, that had been a shock to most people. But Cecily thought it made sense, looking at their final resting place. Maybe her mother just hadn't wanted to be left alone.

"They knew we loved them, and that we would have been here given the choice," she told her older sister. "And you know, we were lucky. Our family was not exactly traditional, but we were happy, weren't we?"

Mary's laugh was a little shaky, but it was a true laugh. "We were, weren't we?"

Cecily nodded. "I don't think they'd want us to be sad, not now. Our brother is getting married, we're all together again – likely for the last time – so we should be happy."

She was rewarded by the smile that spread over Mary's face. "I've finally met our little brother," the eldest Tudor princess said. "Owen is a fine young man, from what I've seen."

"He used to be my little shadow," Cecily confided. "Like I was with you. Edmund and Elizabeth were always so close, and I think that's why he wanted to spend most of his time with me."

"You're probably right," Mary agreed. "So, how is Missy? I thought she would be with you."

"She's pregnant, she couldn't come, but I'm to give her greetings to everyone and her congratulations to Edmund. Cathy?"

"Her daughter was ill, and even though she's on the mend, Cathy wanted to stay with her."

"Of course she would, what mother wouldn't? So, how are things in Cleves? You live there permanently now, don't you?"

It was so easy for the both of them, as they left the Abbey, to slip into easy, familiar conversation. It was as though days had passed since their last meeting, rather than years. Cecily rather thought their parents would approve.

* * *

When she was a little girl, Mary Stewart's mother had talked of nothing except how she was to be Queen of France one day. The young Mary hadn't understood why it mattered; she was Queen of Scotland already, after all. But Maman was French, and she wanted her daughter to be as well, so Mary had just smiled and nodded about it all.

Then, when she was twelve, starting to hate the fact that even though she was Queen, other people ruled her country for her, her betrothal to the Dauphin was broken, and she was instead promised to England's heir, Edmund Tudor. Now, at seventeen, she was marrying the King of England. She would be Queen Regnant in Scotland and Queen Consort in England. Edmund was not going to be awarded the Crown Matrimonial in her country; the fractious Scottish nobles she knew so well would not allow it. The Earl of Arran had been her Regent when the English marriage had been agreed on, and he had known it too.

Arran was here with her, as her senior advisor. Last year, at sixteen, she had been declared of age, as her father's will had ordered, and she'd spent the year trying to secure her power base before coming to England. She didn't know yet exactly how she and Edmund would handle combining two courts, two Privy Councils, and all the other details that had to be taken care of when two reigning monarchs married, but she was sure they'd be able to settle it.

Besides, today was her wedding day, and she wasn't going to let worries spoil it. Her best friends and most trusted ladies, her four Marys, were the only ones she was allowing to help her get ready. She didn't want anyone else around, because only among the other Marys could she relax and be herself. She needed that, because she knew that this entire wedding and the following feast would have her on constant display.

When she was ready, she studied her reflection. She was dressed in cloth of silver, a coronet of silver on her head. Her blonde hair was brushed out loose around her shoulders, falling in waves almost to her waist. She flashed her brightest smile at her reflection, and then, pleased with the result, turned to walk out to her fate. She was Queen already of one nation; she knew that the people wanted to be dazzled by their royalty, and that was exactly what she would do.

For Elizabeth, the wedding ceremony was a very clever form of torture. The Mass seemed to go on forever, and the banquet was even worse. She was sitting next to Owen, on Edmund's right, while Cecily was with Mary and Philip, sitting to their new sister-in-law's left. So she couldn't even get a chance to speak to her sister at all.

However, she was very proud of how well she managed to hide her agitation; not even Edmund, who knew her better than anyone, seemed to notice. Of course, her twin brother was a bit occupied with his new wife, so that might not mean much in this instance. But no one else said anything to her, so she was sure she'd managed to disguise her true feelings. Still, once the dancing had begun, she went over to speak with Cecily.

"You know, Elizabeth, a crowded ballroom is probably not the best place for this," Cecily said dryly.

"Actually, it's the best place; hiding in plain sight."

The older woman sighed. "Elizabeth..."

"I need you to talk to Edmund," Elizabeth said quickly.

The raised eyebrow she got in response was expected, as was the question that followed. "And why can't you talk to him? You're closest to him."

"I want to marry Robin," Elizabeth said bluntly, "and I need you to convince Edmund that it's something he should allow."

"Bess... You and Robert... Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Elizabeth glared at her. "I love him, I've loved him for most of my life. I married once for dynastic reasons, and I did _not_ do what our aunt Margaret did when she was widowed, though I could have, and I wanted to. I've thought about it, I've taken a lot of time to decide if I really want to marry him. And I do. I'm sure of it."

Cecily was impressed. Sometime in the years since she'd seen her sister, Bess had grown up. The fire-haired girl she remembered rushed into everything without thinking, but apparently this grown Elizabeth was a lot more reasonable. It made her more confident that what she said now was a good idea.

"All right. I'll speak to him, but I don't know if it will do you any good."

Elizabeth smiled. "We all listened to you when we were small, I'm sure he'll fall right back into that old habit."

Cecily couldn't help but giggle a little at that one, remembering how she had taken full advantage of being the oldest child in the nursery when she was small. "Well, we'll see, little sister," she said with a grin. "Now, we've not had a chance to catch up yet, and I'd like to hear about what you've been doing."

* * *

It had been a month, and the Spanish party was leaving that day. Cecily was standing in one of the courtyards, saying good-bye yet again to her homeland. She knew she wouldn't be back; this second chance to visit had been an unlooked-for blessing. She had talked to Edmund that morning, and he had agreed, Elizabeth could marry Robert. So she was happy for her sister, even as she was sad to be leaving.

Footsteps behind her made her turn; Kate was approaching her, a book in her hands.

When the blonde reached the young woman, she held the book out. Cecily frowned as she took it. "Kate, what is this?" Whatever it was, it was a fairly slim volume, the cover made of gold-tooled red leather.

"It was your mother's," Kate explained. "When she... I don't know how, but I think she knew she wasn't going to live much longer, she gave it to me and asked me to make sure it got to you somehow. I wasn't sure how, that's why it's been all this time and I've not kept my promise, but now I can just hand it to you."

"What's inside it?"

"I don't know, though I remember seeing her write in it a few times, after the twins were born. I didn't read it, it wasn't my place to do that."

"You could have, though. I don't think she would have minded. Mama always trusted you."

"And that's why I couldn't read it, because she trusted me to give that to you. You're the only one who she thought ought to see it, Cecily, how could I read it?" Though Kate suspected some of what was in there. There had been... moments, over the years, little hints of things that had never quite added up. But she had never let herself look too deeply, because it really wasn't something she needed to know.

So she handed Cecily that book, the book which would have answered every question part of her was dying to have answered, but she didn't regret it. Because it really didn't matter if she knew or not.

For her part, Cecily didn't protest, simply took the journal – for that, she assumed, was what it was – and waited until she was back on the ship to read it. She and Maria had a cabin, but her daughter was busy reading a book of her own. So Cecily knew there would be no questions from her curious little girl, and finally judged it a good time to open the journal.

The sight of her mother's familiar handwriting, bold and graceful, stark black ink against creamy vellum, was enough to catch her breath in her throat. She hadn't let herself really admit just how much she missed her mother until now, when she was looking at this piece of the woman who had given birth to her, a piece that was, as yet, unfamiliar.

Blinking away the sudden blurriness in her eyes, she focused on the words, and not the look of the letters. She could almost hear her mother's voice saying the words aloud, and that was actually comforting.

_You think you know a story, but you only see what's on the surface. To get to the heart of the story, you have to look deeper. Much deeper..._


End file.
